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.
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