Her Hands

April 22, 2010
I see her for the first time
grey eyes piercing into my blue
something tells me I will remember this moment forever her soft skin against mine
soft as a baby
which she is

Time passes her small fingers growing slightly larger
she knows who I am
her small hands cradle my pinky as if hanging on for dear life
she finds protection in me and I am more than happy to offer it
she understands that we are each other
one hand like the other

War and violence follow us black as a night
forcing our hands apart
I never thought that letting go for a small time would cause so much harm
hands still never to move again
pale with no life
those grey eyes never to see the morning sun
and her hands will never meet mine

Black dawn a day later
I grasp her hands for the last time
never to feel the soft skin again

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