Your leather hands
Interlocked with hers
Satin, though not covered with gloves.
The conviction of the grip
Firm, a strong seam
So differen than the shakey
Sweat palms that rested against
My hands, but never gripped
Never clasped, never joined as one
Could those be the same hands?

The rest of you has scarecely changed
constantly crimson cheeks
quiet voice telling
Words, wise far beyond our years
To anyone who will take the time
To revel in you
And she does
I even recoginze the look upon her face
Enchantment
Contentment
That was once my countenance

>From the distance, I would
Swear that I was watching you and I
And I look often though
It hurts
But as you approach
I know I'm am not part
Of the we you are in
And I know it
When I see your hands.

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