When someone professes to care

And yet - chooses not to share

Then, their hesitation's a crutch

Upon which they hold back touch



Pretensions of love are all-pervasive

For then you feel just a little spacy

As those vibrations have you spinning

Yet - without touch, there's no winning



For genuine caring has no real bounds

As those who do, hear only good sounds

Which are not mixed in with any strife

For their hearts are gold, as is their life



- Tristram



Christopher W. Thomas

7:05am Wed. March 18th, 1998