Word-touch

I do not know you by the color of your eyes or skin

Or by their crinkle when you laugh or by the dimple on your chin

And we have never shaken hands or shared a cup of tea

Yet still, I feel like I know you like somehow you know me

We’ve never strolled the courtyard or paused arm in arm to stare

As morning folds away night’s sky in whispers unaware

And you and I have never wept together, though apart

I know we bear in unison the sorrows of the heart

How is it though we’ve never spoken face to face I hear

The wanting in a word’s embrace, the color of your tear?

And how, though we have never met, does love’s desire bind

In filament stronger than touch, this meeting of the mind?

I know you, simply by your sweep of pen across a sheet

Through expression of type-print thought, love’s fellowship is sweet

And though I do not know you by your crinkles, dimples, such

I know we know each other through the wonder of word-touch

© Janet Martin

It occurs to me as I read the words of other writers on other blogs and websites I feel like I know you, not with the familiarity of face to face fellowship, but that of pen on page...