Touch

No, there’s no substitute

for arms around one another,

two bodies warm together.

…  Yes, in the end love,

when we’re really put to it,

brought to the final crunch,

is the one thing that counts.

But as we live ‘No man

is an island’ or, if

brine-girt by circumstance,

a desert island then.

…  Yes, there is still love.

Loving, being loved, save

from total withering.

But this distortion of

self spoils too much

—twist induced by the ache

attendant on the lack

of loving, mutual touch.