Mozart

Were you here,
I would lay my hands
upon your cheeks,
lean my forehead
against yours,
eyes shut…
Like a mother to a child,
in hopes of taking
your torment from you;
Like a disciple seeking
contact with the divine;
Like a friend saying,
without need for words,
that I understand;
Like a child against
the door of a magic toy shop,
hoping to hear the gears
that churn out
such wondrous gifts.