I want to write a poem about your hands,
but I cannot find the words to describe them.
Softer than anything I have ever felt.
As gentle as your soul.
They have held me up and held me tight
when no other could.
Still these words seem small and weak
compared to what your hands mean to me.
Your hands are beautiful, sweet, tender.
My heart aches for their touch.
I studied your hands once.
I could have held them all day,
tracing every line, every fold, every vein.
There are no words to describe what I feel,
but I stubbornly try to find them.