Your warm hand steady on my back
a brief startling touch as we danced around,
faltering, awkward – two strangers lost in another’s kitchen.
How long has it been
since someone touched me
Bit of irony, wrote the poem – couldn’t find a photo I’d taken of a man’s hands. Then I remembered the photo I took of John Oh in Sydney featured in an earlier blog post. The flowers were not a Valentines gift – they were a thanks from me to John for a very pleasant afternoon, in which his hands featured prominently.