Your strong, gentle touch |
Your hands massage my shoulders Causing each of my back muscles To tense in wonderful succession Like the keys of a xylophone Trembling beneath the running mallet. As you gently pulse down my back With those commanding hands I feel each muscle begin to sing As if you are playing A slow, relaxing scale of chords. How your hands weave such alternate senses To linger on my sensitive nerves, I cannot understand. It is as if a shark learned to fly Or a knife learned to sew. Your hands so drastically changed. Moving again to my sides and hips Your hands become forceful, Grabbing hold tight To spin me like a carousel Spiraling through the air Control lost of the world around it, Stopping my motion to face you now I can see the hands That touched me so. The hands that had frightened, Healed, forced and held like they had, Stealing me into reality after reality Never to grasp hold of one Before I am thrown into another Those hands that took a life of their own As their surprising caress Raised the hairs on my neck As their gentle strength Calmed the waters along my back, As their strong spirit Dominated again To send me reeling through space Only to stop once more And offer a sense of cool balance Only they could give, Those hands that brought me to you. Your commanding hands. |