A Touch Below The Sleeve

It was the smallest of gestures,
One that millions of people
Do millions of times in their life.
It was nothing really, but.......
There was something, 
Something seen, and something felt, 
A recognition, an acknowledgement,
A transfer of sentiment.  

I was in a group, standing outside, 
He was no where near
And then he appeared over a hill 
With a look of sheepishness, 
He looked lonely and unsure
And in need of encouragement.

I saw it all immediately, how he felt inside
And all the things that contributed 
To what he could no longer hide.
It wasn't a thought that entered my head 
It was another way to see,
Intuitiveness and an open heart, 
For all who surrounded me.

He spoke somewhat hesitant 
A sadness abounding him,
I took it in with tenderness, 
For what could be so grim.
When he'd finished and I had smiled
And before I turned to leave,
I reached across and touched his arm,
Just below the sleeve. 

We had shared something real
However it came to be
And as much I regretted it
It was now a part of me. 
I had to honor who I was
And who I wanted to be
And to show him my respect
For his humanity.

We did not speak of it, him or I,
No reason why we would,
Until several years later
On a moonlit night
With a million stars above
And he was reminiscing as he often did,
About how we fell in love.

He reconstructed that day,
How he longed and searched for me,
How deeply he'd been affected,
His soul was not the same.
His heart was pounding loudly,
For what if I didn't perceive,
Then we both remembered how,
I reached across and touched his arm,
Just below the sleeve.

Even now reciting it
I can feel the energy,
Of timid minds and hopeful hearts 
And things we can not see,
Of people who listen and people who care,
Of people who make us believe
And who have the power to awaken us, 
With nothing more, than
A touch below the sleeve.