There is no touch like your touch,
backed as it is by love.
God’s own rhythms are brought to mind:
the mounting arc of an ocean wave
in its eager steady rise
and the exquisite explosion in its plunge.
a volcano blows and lava flows,
the ashes softly flurry down
to blanket earth’s bed.
a swelling surge of lightning,
its jagged bolt thrust deeply in the ground,
the resounding thunder a herald of its rapture.
every sunset is nature’s afterglow,
and in your arms
like a brand new dawn,
a memory is born each time
your touch warms again.
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