Small Hand

Somewhere I Have Never Travelled

somewhere i have never travelled gladly beyond any experience
your eyes have their silence
in your most frail gestures are things which enclose me
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as spring opens
touching skilfully, mysteriously her first rose

or if you wish be to close me i and my life will shut very
beautifully, suddenly
as when the heart of this flower imagines, the snow carefully everywhere descending

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility,
whose texture compels me with colours of its countries
rendering death and forever with each breathing

i do not know what is it about you that opens and closes
only something in me understands,
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody not even the rain has such small hands.
 

--from one of my favorite poets in this whole wide world, e.e. cummings  

I miss my son so very much today, it breaks my heart.