We hold hands in church service
My back - board straight
A tree with gnarled roots
White knuckled focus
Your shoulders slumped
An old stone with weathered features
A fog of sleep clouds your face
And your fingers are limp in mine
When the band plays -
White knuckled focus
The tendons in your hand supple -
Out-standing
You tap imaginary chord patterns on the back of my hand
The muscles of your fingers being plucked like piano strings
Chord after chord
And I relax my shoulders
And become an old stone with you