My hands palm flat
Skims the surface as if
Every pore is imbibing
Smooth pages
Lost sentences
Remembrances of pain
Once again
Picture Perfect I sit
My chair of constant comfort
I want to be all that I am
Take me forward
Let me listen
Talk to me of your days wanting
Let me know that I am more
than chairs and pages
Smoothness interrupted by lines
My hand proceeds and I have been touched by you.
