I envisage world with my eyes shut
No colour, no smile, no dark, no light.
How do you remember with nothing to see?
I memorise touches,
as a tactile token of love.
How you touch
a hand, a soul is how you are remembered?
I recall blessings from wrinkled hands,
lined with experience.
On wintry nights I find warmth in hands,
roughened by constant giving.
I remember tender fingers clutching,
feeble and full of love.
Edges of quaint crinkly books, and worn out rubber balls.
A lover's tenderness, a friend's comfort.
I trace my hands,
to remember every bit.
I chronicle touches in memories,
where they remain untouched.
Caressing and reminiscing,
I fondle a little longer with souvenirs,
people carelessly give.