Quickening

....something creeps seductively
up the inside of my memories,
like a hand in slow motion on my inner thigh.
Both awaken remembrance
and quicken the watchful eye of our days;
the pulse of life in the blood of our concerns.
This sudden awakening puts focus out front
like a soldier standing sentinel, doing his duty,
protecting the passions in the pieces of our lives;
the still warm spots quickened by a roving hand on an
old and weary patch of skin, tired and supple to the demands of time.
Heat rising under the moving fingers of remembrance,
Hands simply seeking the soft places
of a dreamer’s rest.

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

it's the hand prints that are indelible

[mysticgmekeepr]

I'll check back to see if you have passed by and left your indelible footprints.