Butterfly Touch

There is a stillness
that surrounds and is within him
I recognize the peace
like the sigh of coming home

I find I must look away
for my gaze must surely be too intent
for such pleasant greetings
and my swift fall will be discovered

Ah but there is a gentleness on him
it gathers upon his features
its silence melts my heart
with every gesture expressed

In concentration
concern passes across his brow
interest at the ideas that flow
across the space of this small table
between us

I feign participation
I can even nod with candor or smile in tune,
yet the words rush past my burning ears
and I strain to comprehend

I grasp at innane rememberances
my attempt at normalcy
to add to the flow of words
the memory of a sunny day
with song and laughter shared

I am struck by features I cannot escape
instead I catalogue their colour,
soft sweetened sage
wet with the last of the dew.
They are the windows I want to enter

It must be transparent
in my dazzled features
this now palpable feeling, once forgotten
like the touch of a butterfly.