A Gentle Touch.

( Fernand Toussaint.)

A gentle touch.

She slipped off her velvet glove,
One delicate finger-tip at a time,
Once this obstruction was thence removed,
She lay her hand in mine.
I tender-touched her whitened palm,
Made note of the softness of her skin,
A sign I pondered in my conscious mind,
Of the lady’s gentleness within.
It felt that this one small action of her hand,
Gave cause in gentle touch, all that was in demand,
All that was wanted and needed,
Between the woman and the man.
For the intimacy of love need not be ordained,
By a passionate embrace between a woman and a man,
Enough for love to be built on a tender touch,
Of a lover’s offered hand.

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