TOUCHING YOU

Sweet Marie,
I send you my poor words as a gift,
In hopes that they may cheer your spirit,
And brighten your eyes.
My dream is simply put.
In it, I touch you in a healing manner,
And all the laying on of my hands
Upon your sweet skin
Are meant to bring you peace.
So now I massage you with cooling lotions,
Every part of you.
And now my fingers work your dear little feet
For your happy repose.
Now they wash your pretty hair,
Gliding among the strands with foam,
I soap and rinse,
Laughing as a child does.
And then I dry.
My towel is brisk - yet gentle in loving
All at the same instant.
And now you sit before me
And I behind you, standing,
Brush in hand,
I stroke gently - yet briskly in loving
All at the same instant,
Drawing the bristles down
Along the length of your fair tresses.
Then when I am done
I face you to me.
My hands cradle your face.
I lift your face to me.
I kiss - first your eyes,
Then you lips - gently in loving,
And thank you for your forgiveness.

There I am - with you.
And I feel humble.