Touch

The cloth cover of the chair
on which you sit
remains uncreased
after your departure.

Not a drop of water is spilt
after you quench your thirst.

Not a single leaf of this flowerless shrub
is disturbed by your visit.  

In this mutedly lit room
between your coming and going
nothing has moved
nothing out of place.

Still
from somewhere there has descended
a great sadness.

TOUCH