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His Hands
April 14, 2012
Early in the morning,
I go to his room,
and kiss him good morning.
His arms bring me to his chest,
pulling me in like a crane does,
as if pulling a bar to an uplifting building.
His hands are huge,
they wrap around mine completely,
like a lion cuddles a cub.
His fingers are the length of my own hand,
and are somehow comfortable,
in the minuscule spaces between mine.
I miss the way those hands used to grab me,
pick me up only to throw me back down,
and tickle me until I just couldn't laugh anymore.
© Danielle L., League City, TX
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