XVII

POSTED IN classic poetry July 14, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

XVII

Lady, i will touch you with my mind.
Touch you and touch and touch
until you give
me suddenly a smile,shyly obscene

(lady i will
touch you with my mind.)Touch
you,that is all,

lightly and you utterly will become
with infinite care

the poem which i do not write.

e. e. cummings