Touch

It was just a touch
In the middle of a jet lagged night
In Florence Italy

I reached over
We were both awake

She gave the tips of my fingers
A short squeeze

It conveyed so much
I am here
I am awake
I see you
I love you

I thought,
I love that touch
Will I remember it
Forever

 

Cursive

 

Would it one day

Require a Rosetta Stone

To decipher its meaning

 

Swirling forms

With striking individual

Variations

 

Developed over many

Years of practice and

Hours of repetition

Of “The Quick brown fox

Jumped over the lazy dog”

 

It honed fine muscle

Coordination and provided

The benefit that comes from

Long term

Disciplined attention to a

Difficult task

 

Which informs us

That nothing grand

Is ever easy

 

Gradually it became

A lost art

As the hard work of

Learning cursive

Was abandoned

In pursuit of

More immediate

Gratification