I’ ve never had a chance to touch your hand
As there always seemed to be a hindrance
My creeping fingers never could extend
Enough to cover the appalling distance
Of what was nothing but an inch or two
Of pilgrimage on the smoothety of table
A distance laughable for you…
To take which I was hardly able
And yet the yearning never seemed to fall
The strangling knot on poor heart’s desire
I knew it useless to put up the wall
Between the two of us for blowing off the fire
And as I groped my way out of despair
Still staggering and leaned against indifference
So swift in movement your hand was all there
And clasping mine in effort of assistance.