The man whose hands can't lie still,
Too busy building
Molding
Growing
Creating
Strong
yet gentle..
I watch those hands
careful not to let them touch me.
The way you grow things
If you were to touch me
I'd lose it...
I'd lose it every time...
Wearing heart on sleeve
Leaving door open for you...
No welcome mat at my door
You need no sign. you know I am here.
My own hands are moving
Hips becoming bold
Legs caving beneath me
Hands wanting yours to hold them.
I have always been tempted by the hardness of man
yet how gentle his touch could be with something he is trying to keep living