Tacenda

Hold My Hand

Fingers twitching, itching, hoping
Judgement starts sloping
Butterflies in my tummy flew
Hidden under the folds of the pretty new skirt I wore just for you
Fingers in the dark cinema hide
In search of your touch they glide
Unfamiliar tingles shoot up my arm
Fingernails skim, what could be the harm
Tips press gently, no more than a butterfly kiss
Courage grows
But heartbeat won't slow
Nearly there, nearly there
Place the rest of my hand in yours with care
Holding my breathe, tension grew
Slowly, slowly
Warm fingers tentatively surround mine too

   but even as our hands grew withered and arthritic, they held on to each other still

No time to waste
No new pictures in our scrapbook to paste
Desperately press your frail bones against mine
My hand and yours, combine
Your every dimple and vein stamped forever inside my head
Other hand grasps desperately onto the sheets of the hospital bed
Any miracles by god, long overdue
Left to beg for only five more minutes with you
Frantically trace your gnarled fingers
I can already hear the funeral dirge singers
Your warm palm grows cold
My teary cheek it can no longer hold