A Brush Of Your Angelic Hand On Mine Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

You have a gaze that hears music.
No one else understands
An intensity of thought that no one else feels
A brush of your angelic hand on mine
It would make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Even to imagine we could one day be friends,
That our paths may fortuitously cross
Has lasting repercussions on the weather,
The seasons and the cycles of the moon.
And who's to say
It's not a moment too soon to fall in love with you.
As those little paunch cheekbones are sent blushing,
Who knows why?
Why I'm imaginary, blushing, blushing for you.
Could it be you are an orbital firework, and one day?
The stars will align, and you will fall for me?
As I am falling for you.