Poem for her 20

Dear Readers,



Her Hands

Her hands are young looking for someone her age
Her hands are soft and tender for what she has done
Her hands hold me tight when I am sad
Her hands brush my hair when we both shower
Her hands massage my back after a long days work
Her hands cook me breakfast in bed sometimes
Her hands get massages themselves every time I hold them
Her hands tell me to shh when I am disquieted by things
Her hands draw each other or her lips all the time
Her hands hold the book she is reading to me
Her hands hold her pillow when she sleeps
Her hands are her holding me as I type


Happy birthday babe,

Charles.