I love your hands. How strong yet gentle they look, veins running just below the surface. Those hands are such a small part of you, yet so special to me and I can't even say why. Just that they seem like they should be awkward; part of the transition between boy and man, but they still amaze me for no reason whatsoever. And I long for their touch, a gentle caress that I have imagined a thousand times and hope is soon in coming, because otherwise I shall have to sit forever at a distance only watching the melodies they weave without ever feeling the music slide across my skin.