I explored your hand
its crevices, its curves
the valleys that dip down
into the essence of every being
It flaked off and rubbed
somewhat on me
And I asked
what is this protrusion
that is your thumb
why my hand can curl
around yours so

In your fingers I felt your history
yet we wave our hands like
it's all about what's in the air.

I wish I could write the traditional
- perhaps - a sonnet?
Something that so eloquently and almost instantly describes
        How it was
            to hold your hand in mine
Something that with
    its wild metaphors of passion, or the calm fragrances of happiness
    can convey the idea of complete contentment

I forage for words, furiously rummaging in my mind

    yet before,
    I had no qualms, no queries
     wandering around the universe of 
                                            
            you.

Today I imagined us sitting in one of the lines of your palm,
looking up at the huge walls of flesh either side of us

I imagined that in that peach landscape
I let my mind be heard

and you didn't
        not understand

I hope you will persevere    me


when I don't write 
    
the usual sonnet.

  

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Comment on this poem... - your honest comments may be the only things that keep me going!
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