Tall grass not yet touched by
dew observe.
Longing to reach the unforbidden.
To glide between atmospheres without
stopping to breathe.
As if that breath will steal what
cannot be stolen.

Hoping their presence will not
break the silence they find absolute.

Pickpocket the sky they will like a field
mouse with a crumb of
salted *******.

They shall not judge
what cannot be touched.
Just praise and absorb.

For what cannot be touched by
lavender hands can be felt by a rose soul.