Sam has a touch of fire.
When we got to be almost friends he would put his hand
on my shoulder
when it was time to leaves the parties we both went to
and he said goodbye.

He would come up behind me
and there would be the hand,
and I would know it was Sam without even turning
because his touch was fire.

One night I went to a party and I wore a sundress
with no back.
When it was time I thought
he won’t touch me now.
not tonight.

But then we were leaving and there was the hand again,
On my bare shoulder this time
and it was fire.

Night after night always the same,
and when the hand came without stopping
I was hard pressed
to look him full-on when I said goodnight,
knowing the eyes would be there,
And I couldn’t tell yet what they were saying.

So I mumbled low at the floor,
not wanting to leave until I knew,
but needing the cool night air and the dark ride home
to keep his touch from showing plain.

Excerpt from Touch of Fire by Pam Goode