My hand reached out, ready to take hers.
"My hand's covered with scars," she said.
My hand reached out, ready to take hers.
"My hand is attached to baggage," she said.
My hand reached out, ready to take hers.
"You'll just take your hand away when I'm near," she said.
My hand reached out, ready to take hers.
"You'll judge what you'll see," she said.
My hand reached out, ready to take hers.
And she took it. My hand grasped with her's;
Firm, and yet gentle.
And I'll never let go.