Of hands

They have their own conversations - hands.

Hands held, under the yellow streetlight on a long drive; endless. Hands held, round the corner, more alcoholic, than the beer that flows at the pub. Hands held, at the cafe, having their own affair to the jazz in the background.

Her fingers entangled in your fingers. Her fingers wrapped around your fingers. Her fingers dancing to their own music,making love, engrossed in your heartbeat.

Hands, strong and powerful. Hands, soft and sweet.

Your fingers intertwined around hers, across the setting sun, the splashing waves. Your fingers protecting hers, wet in the drenching rain. Your fingers holding hers, tight and warm, and tiny snowflakes.

Holding each other, committing to each other, making promises to the heart.

They have their own conversations -hands, conversations for a lifetime.