These Hands

Written by: richard karr

If I were to reach to you
And found my hands were gone
Nothing, nothing I could do
Would complete the intended bond

Michelangelo sculpting David
Painting the Sistine chapel’s dome
Recording his artistic genius
In the great halls of Rome

Imagine life without these hands
A mind with naught to mold
Naught to guide the woven strands
And cloak me from the cold

Me sending a loving thought
softly through a touch
the warmth the pleasure brought
just by feeling such

Never the grasp of friendship
Not the warmth there could be
Clasping another’s in your grip
Yes my hands, they are me