The hands of the beholder shone white
through the crowd of people in the twilight of the day,
on the last day of love.
Within those hands was an apple, so red, so juicy,
that tempted anyone who walked by innocently.
The hands hold the apple patiently,
waiting for that one who will dare to try and grab it.
It was though they had been waiting for eternity
to find that one person brave enough; the right person.
But millions walk by, looking, wanting,
only to keep going by some unknown force.
Yet, it drew me.
I could not resist the tempting fruit
inside those white, patient hands.
And the hands, too, could feel the draw each of us had,
knowing that someone was finally brave enough
to grab the heart of the beholder.