Hands

A child’s hands
Now grown long and thin
Without baby fat memories.
A mind,
Struggling to fit those
Woman’s hands
Struggling to
Let go
Of those child’s
Hopes.
Yet being only
Half successful
Due to your youthful
Old soul.

In your arms
A body not your own,
Though younger
And thinner than it
Should be.
Laying a head on your
Shoulder
That holds eyes
Which see farther than
They should.
A body that should
Be dying,
But in your arms
Finds eternity.
In your kiss
Finds warm breath
To thaw the cold.
In your eyes
Finds the sadness
Of a soul born to
Understand
And still love.
And in your hands,
Your woman’s hands,
Grown long and thin
Without baby fat memories
In your hands,
Finds hope.