His Hands

They speak to me . . .

He says I talk with my hands (and I do), but it’s his hands that talk to me in so many different ways, without him saying a single word.  They are…

…strong. Where my strengths end, his hands take over and complete what I cannot.

…gentle.  Perpetually caring for me without hesitancy, his hands tell me there is still kindness and tenderness in the world.

…encouraging.  When my confidence wanes, his hands are there to lead me through, and applaud my every success.

…passionate.  The simplest touch sends sparks of electricity through my veins, sending tingles all the way to every fingertip and toe.

…masterful.  Eager to attack any task, and take on any challenge, they can make or repair almost anything…teaching me every step of the way.

…comforting.  If I’m under the weather, his hands caress the pain away, and invariably make me feel well again.

…my security.  At the end of the day, his hands hold me tight, making me feel safe.  I look forward to waking next to him ready to approach another new day as one.

…loving.  Every touch, caress, gesture, and helping hand, expresses the love we share so sweetly.

…ALWAYS there for me.  Whether taking a stroll or maneuvering through a crowded venue, his hands reliably find mine.  Like magnets, our hands join without any deliberate thought.

Last, but not least, his hands are just another part of his body that turns me on 💋

 

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