The weight of her hand

The weight of her hand
descends like a goldfinch
light and airy it lands
at the base of my neck

the trapezius muscle loosens
my shoulder drops inches
and the bouncy finch
is off again through the air.

Stress and tension are melted
boiled, drained away
in those three seconds
of stillness

while love, devotion
kindness are summoned to the top
like magic, like pixie dust under
the weight of her hand.

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