More poetry


I take your hand, then press it to my cheek.
The feel of it is smooth. It gives no sign.
It is a shallow furrow that I seek:
To etch into my skin your palm’s lifeline.

Your life will be a path of splendour bold,
A road lit up with unassuming grace.
If I could choose one part of you to hold,
It would be that lifeline upon my face.

When I go out among my fellow crowd,
They cannot see this watermark, so faint.
But being aware I’m wearing it, I’m proud
That your vitality is my face paint.

I love your lifeline that adorns my cheek.
Your tread tickles my skin, each day, each week.

                                                                 Jon Mountfort

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