I enjoy silent personal smiles,
Brought on by a text,
          A meme
                             Perhaps remembrance
Or the memory of a touch
An old song you just remembered
                                            By the beat of the bus' bouncing
                     Seeing other's
              Is just about as good
As having my own

Sometimes stars explode
and leave behind the most
beautiful nebulae in the universe-
but that is one in a billion.
Somehow you create a nebula
with every touch,
and every word.
So what does that make you?

I fantasize...
of walking
on this grey day
a girlfriend in tow
to the Cadillac cafe.
Maybe...
8 blocks
Up Broadway.
Peering through window
glass-
at passers by.
Orange juice to lick
my lips.
Listen-
melodic voices
The Humms of a Saturdy morning

his words burned through people
with barely a care in the world
corrosive, toxic, flammable,
the strongest acid she'd ever seen.

her words slid over people
like soap, a weak base
so she kept quiet
meek could have been
her middle name.

she thought they could neutralize.
she thought he was a weaker acid,
one that could complement her,
not one that burned at the touch.

but burn he did.

nevertheless, she prevailed.

i could see heaven in your eyes
the saddest sun will rise
a forever we may be
if only your eyes could see
lips as soft cream
touch so gentle at the seam
i wonder if you could love me
cause when i look at you i see the sea
Could it be?
Maybe meant to be

Having Touched You
by Michael R. Burch

What I have lost
is not less
than what I have gained.
And for each moment passed
like the sun to the west,
another remained

suspended in memory
like a flower
in crystal
so that eternity
is but an hour
and fall

is no longer a season
but a state
of mind.
I have no reason
to wait;
the wind

does not pause
for remembrance
or regret
because
there is only fate and chance.
And so then, forget . . .

Forget that we were very happy
for a day.
That day was my lifetime.
Before that day I was empty
and the sky was grey.
You were the sunshine,

the sunshine that gave me life.
I took root
and I grew.
Now the touch of death is like a terrible knife,
and yet I can bear it,
having touched you.

Odd, the things that inspire us! I wrote this poem after watching "The Boy in the Bubble": a made-for-TV movie, circa 1976, starring John Travolta. So I would have been around 18 at the time. Keywords/Tags: bubble, boy, Travolta, disease, illness, death, love, touch, danger, courage