Timid Touches

A cycle of poems «And What If There is No Love?»

Fingers trace a hesitant line,
Across your arm, a touch so fine.
A whisper soft, a gentle plea,
Afraid to break the space between me.
My heart beats fast, a nervous drum,
Hoping you won't feel I've come undone.
Timid touches, fragile art,
A yearning whispered, close to heart.

Oh, the timid touches, soft and slow,
A fragile bloom, a silent flow.
Afraid to push, afraid to hold,
A story whispered, yet untold.
But in these touches, hope resides,
A fragile flame, within us hides.

A brush of hands, a fleeting glance,
A shy hello, a hopeful chance.
Words unspoken, feelings deep,
In every touch, secrets keep.
The air is thick, with unspoken things,
A silent language, love it sings.
Timid touches, a gentle art,
A trembling hope, a beating heart.

Oh, the timid touches, soft and slow,
A fragile bloom, a silent flow.
Afraid to push, afraid to hold,
A story whispered, yet untold.
But in these touches, hope resides,
A fragile flame, within us hides.

Will courage bloom, and fears subside?
Will these touches, open wide?
The path unknown, the future bright,
A chance to share, the warm soft light.

Oh, the timid touches, soft and slow,
A fragile bloom, a silent flow.
Afraid to push, afraid to hold,
A story whispered, yet untold.
But in these touches, hope resides,
A fragile flame, within us hides.

Timid touches, a hopeful start,
A gentle whisper, close to heart.
A touch, a sigh, a silent plea,
The start of something, wild and free.