Touch on the fingertips

Boat ride in the middle of the night.
Winter's touch adds the mist from my breath.

Why did I come back?

Realization is in my heart,
  but still I must go through the motions.

Memories so cherished,
  now with a bit of chill.

Still, the summer's water was so clear.

While I touch the cold water,
  I remember.

So beautiful.

Most precious,
the warmth felt.

Touch on the fingertips,
  never can be forgotten.

Reviews

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~ oh, this is beautiful... just so magical and captivating... i loved the imagery, monsieur jon...