Whisper-touch

 

As we were talking

by the glass-blower's stand,

you stood very close,

cool breath, chatter-hopping conversation.

Suddenly your slender fingers

reached up to brush a stand of hair

away from my mouth.

A moment later 

you were speaking lightly

of something else,

the connection apparently

forgotten.

But I will always remember

the feel of your skin against mine,

even such a small meeting,

your gentle finger on my cheek. 

Weaving words along with Write Alm's September Prompt-a-Day.