A touch that says what it wants to say
Must be just that, no more
Why must a glance be more
Than a glance that’s met love on its way?
The song of a bird perched on a tree
Is not about philosophy
Not about a higher me
It’s not a path, nor clue, nor a key
Look around and if all that you see
Are layers of meaning
You are just demeaning
The truth of life that of them is free.
07 April 2016