Her hands are old hands

Thin-skinned,

Blue-veined, beloved –

Heart’s hands

I take them, I stroke them

Her loves and her labours

Are mine

His hands are child’s hands

Sweet-soft,

Pink-toned, so trusting

Heart’s hands

I take them, I squeeze them

His hopes and his heartaches

Are mine

I’m holding on tightly

I’m not letting go

Our future in HIS hands  

To have and to hold…

‍