the first time you held my hand-
i thought nothing of it.
it felt natural, it felt normal,
i never realized how important
it would be to me now.
my hands grip pencils,
and so do yours.
my hands write poems,
and so do yours.
my hands dance to the beat,
and so do yours.
my hands used to tickle the ivories-
your hands have played so much more.
my hands hold babies,
your hands cuddle with kittens.
my hands are cracked
with long slender fingers,
the nails poorly painted.
but your hands, my dear,
are smooth and untouched
with short bare nails.
and when we sat there,
our hands simultaneously interlacing-
it was the beauty of our differences
that i felt then on that day.
it was my ivory cream against
your milk chocolate...
that made me fall in love.
