Substitutions

I've written two poems today, but I don't particularly feel like posting either one. So I'm giving you an old one that I don't believe I've posted before.

Baby brother

Softly his hand explores
The curves and angles of my face.
Gently his hand reveals
To him the coars texture of lace.
Lightly he talks nothings
In my ears, a little nonesense.
Laughing he takes glasses
Of my face and moistens the lens.
Smiling he tries taking
What I am holding, like my pen.
Reaching he tries taking
And when he fails he tries again.