I have known hands.
I have known hands,
I have known hands,
smooth strong hands
that lovingly carressed skin.
I have known hands
that threw frisbees,
played ping-pong, shuffled cards,
drew intricate mazes, typed equations,
hands that made the violin sing.
I have known hands
as if in a mirror,
the same yet reversed.
I have known hands
that juggled their way through life.
I have known hands
that talked,
and I understood their story.
I have known hands
that danced, yet knew the tango least of all.
(for that is the lovers' quarrel)
I have known hands
that sang in the rain
of sweet melancholy love songs.
I have known hands
that comforted, soothed, massaged.
I have known hands
that I knew best laced through mine,
when we were delightfully unaware of the world around us.
I have known hands
that left a key,
possibly without knowing it.
I have known hands
that caught tears early one morning
when most of the world was still asleep and undisturbed.
I have known hands
outstretched and ready to help.
I have known hands
that loved, that cared.
I have known hands
that were always there,
that are still there in my mind.