Touch me, touch me, Little cool grass fingers, Elusive, delicate grass fingers. With you shy brushings, Touch my face -- My naked arms -- My thighs -- My feet. Is there nothing that is kind? You need not fear me. Soon I shall be too far beneath you, For you to reach me, even, With your tiny, timorous toes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DINNER IN A QUICK LUNCH ROOM by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET TO A DEAD LOVER by LOUISE BOGAN CAVE PAINTING by HAYDEN CARRUTH A MID-DAY DREAMER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ANSWER TO PRAYER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |