SensesI look at you and I seemy awkward teenage yearsthe beginning days ofa date with my vicesone I shall always craveI catch your scentand my world turnsa little faster, buttime slows down likea chronological prisonI feel your touchand my skin pricklesI want more than justa fleeting caress--or a remembranceI hear your voiceand I feel like a childwho knows poemsyou were blessed witha healing balmI still can taste youlike a sun-ripened peachjuicy and sweetdripping down my chinand filling my senses© 2009 John Hardesty
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