these hands

i tremble when he touches me,

like a new born bird,

shy, and tender, and hungry with need…

and i wonder at this man,

as he touches my face with his gentle hands –

hands that are strong, and powerful, and masculine.

hands that could bring down another man,

or work the fields all day.

how can he channel such strength

and power and intensity

into such a tender touch?

and i long to nibble on his ear

and whisper to him in my best

kathleen turner voice

that i may need a lifetime to explore

this man

and these hands.

About denelle

writer. artist. ponderer.

Posted on May 5, 2010, in poetry, thoughts and reflections and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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