In the silent dance of fingertips,
A whisper soft as morning mist,
A gentle brush that lingers,
An echo from the heart persists.

Through fleeting moments, souls engage,
A tapestry of warmth and grace,
An unseen thread that binds us tight,
In every touch, a gentle trace.

The language spoken without words,
A tender glance, a silent vow,
In every touch, the promise lies,
A world anew, awakes somehow.

So let us cherish every touch,
For in its strength, a world is spun,
A bond that weathered time and space,
A gentle touch, where love’s begun.