Touching the light

In a stupor, drunken or otherwise, passing a finger through a thick cigarette smoke ring or a candle flame. Fast enough so as to not break the ring too much or burn my finger and slow enough to feel the weightless smoothness around my finger...Touching her skin makes me think of touching the lightness.

Then...on a lazy winter day, moving my hand from shade to a block of light formed by a sun-ray on a wooden floor. The hand not touching the floor but hovering slightly above it. I can sense the touch of the ray on my hand and the warmth of the wood below...Touching her skin makes me think of touching the light.