Poetry

Hands (2/20/22)

His hands
I remember his hands

I can feel his touch
When I close my eyes

Fingers intertwined
In mine

His hand on my thigh
Riding in the car

My thumb rubbing the
Smooth, flat spot on his thumbnail

Thumbs drying my cheeks
When the tears fall like rain

Words are often elusive
But his hands are always there

Clapping hands supporting me
From the sidelines

From 5k to 26.2
To tennis match

A sassy slap on the butt
While I make dinner

A caress, a stroke
Building heat

A golden band on his finger
And on mine

Promises of forever
That only he gets to keep

Now my hand reaches out
And grasps the air

The spaces between my fingers
Yearn for his to fill them

And my forever feels empty
Stretching to eternity