Holding Hands

Your hands are perfect, intertwined with mine.
Remember how it feels to turn and kiss
while walking hand-in-hand?
You say, Sublime.
I smile and nod then start to reminisce
on how your perfect hands have touched my face
like love, directed by perfection’s heart.
You smile as I recite the time and place
of everywhere our hands were not apart.
I feel you lean against my arm tonight;
you find my hand like sunshine finds the dawn,
and softer than the touch of morning’s light
your hand caresses mine and lingers on.
It lingers in the warmth of skin-to-skin,
perfected as we turn and kiss again.

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