Ray Boorman


 What a wonderful thing taste is.
 A myriad of flavours caressing the inside of the mouth,
 A journey exploring the home grown and the exotic,
 The sheer delight of extraordinary sensations dancing
 Across the taste buds of which we never tire,
 Indulging and sampling the world’s diverse larder,                             
 A sense often shared with others for pleasure,
 What a wonderful thing taste is.
What a wonderful thing sight is.
 An abundance of colour, impossible to define,
 Sitting perfectly in harmony creating natures palette,
 The ability to watch a child slowly grow
 And transform from adolescence into adult hood,
 Appreciating the beautiful, whilst recognising
 The ugly and accepting the distasteful,
 What a wonderful thing sight is.
What a wonderful thing hearing is.
 Listening each morning to symphonies of bird song
 Or the Cockerel crowing, natures alarm clock,
 Waves lapping gently onto a shingle beach,
 That special someone whispering I love you,
 Or the shrill sound of the alarm call
 Warning passers by of imminent danger,
 What a wonderful thing hearing is.
What a wonderful thing smell is.
 A perfect indicator of what is pleasant and what is not,
 Like the choking menace of deadly smoke,
 Or the homely aromas of just baked bread,
 The unique scent of a powdery youngster at bed time,
 Maybe the odour of a lover, delicate yet strong enough
 To stir the desires that lay deep within.
 What a wonderful thing smell is.
What a wonderful thing touch is.
 The excitement as lips are pressed together in a kiss,
 One’s ability to distinguish texture and form,
 To know hard from soft and rough from smooth,
 Realise freedom as the wind brushes back your hair
 Or the sun burns warm against delicate skin.
 The gentleness of a mothers caress,    
 What a wonderful thing touch is.                    Ray Boorman


All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Ray Boorman.
Published on e-Stories.org on 02/03/2011.


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