Your Touch
While your love is hotter than a fire that will melt steel, your touch is cold.
While I've met with cold things in this world, I've yet to meet with anything so cold as your touch.
The fall wind itself is not colder than your touch as it comes rustling the leaves fallen on a
frosty morning when chrysanthemum are in bloom.
Even the snow piled high on the ice of a winter night is not colder than your touch, when the moon is small and the stars are shafts of light.
Nor is the Master's sermon, cool and refreshing as dew, colder than your touch.
Only your touch can put out the flame which burns in my poor heart.
My heart is the only thermometer there is that can measure the temperature of your touch.
While your love is hotter than fire, so hot it can burn down a mountain of cares, dry up a sea of yearning, your touch is cold beyond measure.
While I've met with cold things in this world, I've yet to meet with anything so cold as your touch.
The fall wind itself is not colder than your touch as it comes rustling the leaves fallen on a
frosty morning when chrysanthemum are in bloom.
Even the snow piled high on the ice of a winter night is not colder than your touch, when the moon is small and the stars are shafts of light.
Nor is the Master's sermon, cool and refreshing as dew, colder than your touch.
Only your touch can put out the flame which burns in my poor heart.
My heart is the only thermometer there is that can measure the temperature of your touch.
While your love is hotter than fire, so hot it can burn down a mountain of cares, dry up a sea of yearning, your touch is cold beyond measure.
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