JOHN'S HAND

I notice your hand
- such a hand -
as it holds the sheet
the way it held me
last night
and smile;
remember the thrill
the chills
it leaves behind
as it tickles trails along my thigh;
think of the warmth
the powerful warmth
I feel when that hand
holds mine;
and the tenderness when it touches my face.

I wonder
if that hand
is strong enough
to call my bluff
and hold me to you
while I'm pulling away.




Copyright 1999, Howl-at-the-Moon Words


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