Skin and memory
July 2022
As we walked and talked, you stroked my hand with your thumb.
Round and round, the lightest touch.
You told me it was so you would remember my skin
And my heart ached.
Now as I walk I sometimes find that for a mile or more
My own fingertips have been circling my thumb.
It is one of a hundred ways you inhabit me in absence:
My skin remembers you.
Round and round, the lightest touch.
So satin-soft that it calls out a feeling like heartbreak,
So pebble-smooth that I cannot believe I have fingerprints,
As though you polished me before you left.
X
About me
I'm an Anglo-Irish web developer, father of five, company director and (evidently) a poet of sorts.
My inspiration comes from the beautiful Cotswold countryside I inhabit and explore,
the intricate mysteries of the people I have loved, and the daily miracle of being a living, breathing,
always changing consciousness – a point of view through which the universe looks upon itself.
If my poems speak to you, then I'm glad to have put them here: that hope is my only reason for doing so.
If you'd like to share them with friends, family, lovers or acquaintances by pointing them towards this site,
then please feel free. You can use the 'share' link that appears below the poems.
Would you like to reproduce one of my poems?
If you appreciate my turn of phrase and would like to quote part or all of a poem for a personal or educational purpose,
then you're welcome to, but please reference my name, the poem title and a link to this site wherever possible.
To discuss the inclusion of a poem in an anthology, a collection of writings (whether printed or online) or in any other artistic work,
or to arrange any commercial use, please contact me.
Back to poems
