I press mine against yours

And marvel at the way

Your fingertips overshadow mine.

There is strength

And immense power hidden

In the sinews and lines

In the thin, nerve-ridden skin

But there is also great tenderness

Love falling with every touch.

I trace the edge of my index finger

Down your wide palm,

The thick muscle under your thumb

And turning your hand over

I kiss each of your fingertips

Decorated with ragged flat nails

Chewed by the stress

I wish to erase.

I find the scar that

You don't know how you received

And I kiss that too.

Some people memorize faces.

I memorize your beautiful hands.

The room was open

And breezy

Spring sunlight filtering

To land on clinking forks

And crystal glasses.

The room rang with

Laughter and clinked rings,

Shook with tossed heads and

The sound of educated voices

Talking books and art.

The room was happy

All but one corner

Housing a loneliness

That all eyes skipped over:

A waif, longing to belong.