To want to reach over and touch you,
To want to know how you feel,
It invades my brain like a criminal
To envision how it might be.

I sit here, enthralled with conversation,
As the cancer of thoughts
Spreads it’s tentacles from my brain
Down my neck and shoulders
To envelop my body with desire.

In a different time, a different place
A different body . . .
I might have had the chance
To discover you, out of my dreams.

For now, I’ll curb my impulses
To reach out to you
And tell you many more things . . .
Thoughts, hopes, and desires.
For now, I’ll only reach out with my mind
But keep my true thoughts to myself.


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Copyright ©1997 by Carol Hopwood. All rights reserved.
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