his hands are an old marriage
wrinkles of care and i sink into folds
of touch is touch, years in the making
holding on holding strong
but even strength is fragile

i hold steadfast under strain
but i too need to be held

and this is how we loved
years of lines connecting other lines
on palms lines stay and other lines
circle like courting hawks

but the most beautiful part of hands is where they touch now

and now is not too late
and tomorrow is also
not too late

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