Black

[Out of sight, yet...]

It's true I cannot behold you:
You're in a foreign land-
But if e'er I want to hold you,
I just outstretch my hands.

With my hands, I read your letters,
I feel your smiles and frowns,
Like the weft of knitted sweaters,
I feel your ups and downs.

The air does fetch your heartbeat thumps
Like whispers in my ear;
And when my hair goes up in bumps,
I know you're drawing near.

I love it when we're speaking slow-
You're talking in my tongue;
And your fragrant breath does go
In-out-into my lungs.

No! I love you not through lenses-
Your beauty's in my mind;
I love you more through other senses,
Thank God that love is blind.