Touches

Touches
 
The soft clean fur of a loved cat.
The intricacies of old wood, carved and polished.
Perfect pastry, deftly prepared and passed coolly
slip-slap from left hand to right and back.
New virgin snow; old pre-loved books.
 
A feather found on a beach, wind-ruffled.
Sand, comfort-warm on one's back
or slithering through fingers, or damp
and squidging through wriggling toes.
The breeze there, salt and whispering life.
The full body slap of a crisp green wave,
champagne-foamed.
 
The chaste caress of clean sheets.
Loose powder on a big fluffy puff.
Bright heavy strings and rings of jewels
in intriguing lumps and facets.
The feel of hands running over velvet
that clings to a body. The ineffably soft
touch of thigh above a sheer stocking top.
 
Cold water on a close, sticky day.
A muscle-easing hot power shower.
Sliding foaming soap or gel, the tickle of sponge.
Pleasingly uneven rough cobbles;
smooth, smooth alabaster or new plaster.
 
Helpless sweet jelly. Cool hammered copper.
The fragrant fuzz of a yielding, just ripe peach.
A hand. Your hair. Your mouth.
Your face. You.