Your Touch still alive and fresh

Every morning I wrote read and corrected several pages of life
Still the poem, the context, the verses of love remained untouched
Unread, not fabricated, not understood, nor were identified, nor were fine.
Today, you are far away from me. You are in the universe, which relates not to the Universe.
The poem, the context, the verses of love, on these pages, left behind unfinished
YOU are still alive; still YOUR TOUCH is with me
In My soul, my mind, my breath.
Today, it is not YOU, my love but Your Touch still alive and fresh.