A Poem by Joyce Bowen

Touch, I say, it will not hurt; for now, has come tomorrow.

Touch, I say, reach fingertips; not fists so hard & hollow.

Touch, I say, don’t tremble so; don’t hide down in the corner.

Touch, I say, oh, little one; for I am not the horror.

Touch, I say, come on, reach out; the nightmares go and sorrow, will touch,

I say, the hearts of those around you.

Reach, hold tight, and don’t let go; a hug is soon to follow.

Touch, I say, and you will find, that now has come tomorrow.

By Joyce Bowen

Joyce is a self-employed writer with experiences in various areas of writing. She graduated with a BA in psychology and a minor in English. She is an advocate for organizations whose goal is to make a difference in the lives of the people.