---
I pray you didn’t catch me looking
at your hands as they worked in the kitchen.
---
you were there, too,
but it was your hands that captured my attention.
strong, calloused hands.
never did I ever think that peeling potatoes
could be so interesting,
or so attractive.
---
your chest was there, also
barely clad in a thin white t-shirt;
a small key around your neck
bounced on it,
tumbling around as though
on a glistening trampoline.
---
hope,
the key said,
both engraved in its metal
& in its words to me.
---
moments passed at dinner that evening,
& as I found myself again & again
praying that your arm would graze my shoulder,
I couldn’t help but wonder
how much hope I could bear to
keep holding on to.
---
dinner came and went,
but my gaze on you never wavered.
I found myself both not hungry
& ravenous
as the entrees were served.
---
could your smile be any brighter?
or your eyes more soft?
eyes of velvet shine
& I am mesmerized.
---
as dinner passed & it grew time to clear the table,
you stood to clean up.
I closed my eyes & prayed for your touch.
behold, at the smallest graze
of your wrist on the back of my neck,
my heart fluttered,
& you dropped my dishes.
---
I sit here, the day after
still contemplating these small moments,
both cursing
& understanding
that you are not doing the same.
yet,
my heart still beats,
h —
o —
p —
e —
when will you serve dessert?