abstract:"the softer touch"

a softer touch, none was better,
a lighter reach,
was all was had
in the sunlight, never course
through your sanded hair
the moment
short
and full.

the air lived hopeful,
intent assured,
fostered and cared for
a lightning bug
cast on the treeline
now
is gone.

pray then, say it thrice
hollow flesh, like an empty
meal
the latest tribes
are gallows
hid
along the
treeline's
course.

- may 9, '16

Frida - Candid