In the museum of touch
The fingers of the blind
Float like butterflies
Around works of art

Something like that
As we lie
Side by side
After a long winter

My hand rests
In wonder
On the miracle
Of your hip
And it’s slope
To your side

Then, gently,
Like a benediction,
Your left hand rises
To cover mine.

The snow, the room,
The early day
Still in silence.

Image: The Please Touch Museum