Never Can Touch

Mist hangs in the morning light

Silver-grey yellow mute light.

Grass green undulating meadow

Standing tall three young fellows.

An angel appears pure white, opaque

A warmth of senses suddenly awake.

Their eyes smile as they meet

Outstretched arms, the familiar greet.

As with the vagaries of the mist

Happiness dissolves and fades to anguish.

Mortal flesh and spirit cannot connect, as such

They smile and cry, but can never touch.

Craig (05/10/2012)

Copyright Craig Buller 2012. All rights reserved