Mother Touch

little children
small, just walking
have a gymnastics
all to their own
they experiment with walls
floors furniture rails doors steps
how boring all us grown-ups are
walking along an efficient grid
like well-dressed puppets
writing poetry and longing to
get down and feel the carpet
and bless the body
the contours and edges
textures and surprises
our mother ever has in store
should I manage to untangle
and undress let go and express
unwrap and unfurl with her
remembering touch
and its superior comfort
after all
she's what we all go through