On water smooth as glass sentinels stand on mirrored floors as they float on life's illusion.

Touch You with Words


distance is my fate
how am I to ever touch you
other than with words

can you feel the glide of metaphor
over your skin
let the simile move
over your the nape
of your slender neck
gentle words in a of allusion
laying on a bed of fantasy
the taste of sweet caesura
in the rhythm of your grace
and the metered rhyme of reason
and the pleasure on your face
as the tempo builds in letters
and you come to feel the end
there's a trailing of the sentence
but the story never ends

© Paul Viel