touched by wind

a heart laid bare, shivers
like a newborn touched by wind
the moving air raises its tender skin
and it shivers for want of warmth

a heart, exposed to the whims
of passing gusts and clouds
that hide the sun, feels so much
then quickly goes numb
and feels nothing, but there
in the solitude of distance
from any loving touch
is its moment of truth

An acceptance that the heart
is forever alone, and touched too harshly;
its weakness is its power, and
its strength in its needs.

For it open the eyelids unto dawn
impels the first step of day,
and fuels the long and desperate search
for human warmth and more, and more
human warmth