Your Hands

I could spend hours staring at just your hands. Your long thin fingers, almost tiny twigs at the end of your branches, the way they dance about my shoulders makes me shiver. The veins, so obvious and blue, almost protruding from your skin are almost like hidden rivers, flowing everlasting to an unseen destination. Every little calous with it's story to tell. Your knuckles, where fingers meet palms, are the most magnificent mountain range, and I want to be the first to explore it. The flesh on your finger tips is so hard and rough from wear and tear, but your touch is so gentle, more than making up for it. Your hands are full of life, full of strength as they hold me tight, yet so full of love as they caress my skin. I cannot wait to get lost in the life of your hands.