Time Behind the Touch

A hand once held, now lost in space, still lingers warm in a sacred place. Though years may drift and faces fade, the touch remains where hearts once stayed.

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Each brush of skin, a silent vow, A moment then, eternal now . Time moves on, but love stands still. A ghost that breathes through memory’s will.

In shadows soft or morning’s light, the echo stirs, both faint and bright. A fleeting glance, a pulse, a sigh. Time hides the touch, but won’t deny it.

Beneath the hush of passing years, the touch survives through joy and tears. It haunts the breeze, it warms the air. A silent bond still resting there.

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Original post by @dobartim
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