May contain Rants

Hands…

The language of the hands

When your hand perfectly fits in my mine
When your heart line
connects with mine
it speaks words of love

When life becomes uncertain and everything I see starts to become dark
Its your hands that cradles my face in yours as you hold it back up to the light
They tell me I am safe

When we are faced with disapproving looks
When lines cannot meet
Because homophobic hate
Our fingers tips discreetly touch
As it sends a profanitising message of Fuck you !
To those that hate.

When in the dead of night
Our time for rediscovery When your hands begin to explore all of me
Your fingers start to play a melody
Building to a crescendo
Until I am singing

Fingers tips entwined
With bodies as one
Face to face ,we smile
No words are needed as we know
The language of the hands.
© Mehefin Bolland 2019