When she touched him for the first time
His skin was warm
And his hair was soft
And his fingers sweet
And the sun through the tall pinnes
Rose in invocation
On the blanket of blossoms
And he was so beautiful
And she had never seen such a smile.

When she touched him for the last time
His skin was cold.
And his hair was thin
And his fingers shook
And the moon through the hospital window
Fell in benediction
On the little table
Heavy with flowers and fruit
And her tear joined his tear
At the little line
Where his smile began.

~by Carol Lynn Pearson