My Friend has Story Hands

July 25, 2012
By HisPurePrincess ELITE, Flemington, New Jersey
HisPurePrincess ELITE, Flemington, New Jersey
132 articles 33 photos 483 comments

Do you remember when we first met?
I said I liked your bow tie.
You said "thanks."
I asked if we could be friends.
You said "sure."
We talked about each other and when I left
I asked for a hug.
You gave me a really good one.
I came back the next week
and you remembered who I was.
Not just my face,
you remembered ME.
That's when I knew you were my friend.

I noticed your hands right away.
How could I not?
They were always moving.
Especially on that tin whistle you carry
with you everywhere.
I like your music, and the slight Irish
accent in your voice.
One day, you came in with
your knuckles all cut up.
I asked why and you said you got a new puppy.
I smiled.
Every week for a while your hands were
covered with scratches.
I liked to hold your hand and run
my fingers over them.
You wondered why I liked to.
I said I just liked to feel a person's hands.
True, but more than that, I like the feel the
stories hidden in the calluses or softness or scratches.
I liked the feel of your hands.
Guess what?
You've got story hands.



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