Hands

Oh.

My hands.



Were they
always
this beautiful?


I guess I never noticed my hands
before you touched them,
explored them,
with yours.

I never knew that
hands
could be so wonderful.

You held mine
in the dark
never still
always moving
testing the many ways
yours and mine
could join.

My hands must be
different, now.
I am sure you have changed them.
In any case,
they have learned how
your hands feel.
And it seems
my hands are
restless
without the pressure
of yours.

I did not know that
one pair of hands
could miss
another.