Hands of Time

tiny, plump, and new, not yet forced to feel the weight of the world. growing, soft, and dirty, curiosity has called them to do its work. diligent, fresh, and shaking, endless opportunities are just within reach. callused, rhythmic, and free, passion and soul guide their every move. rushed, pulsing, and skilled, slaves owned by the power of desire and lust. clasped, caressed, and jeweled, committed to another pair. giant, splayed, and trained, talent drives and pride navigates. delicate, primped, and glossy, forever awaiting another unearned offering. clenched, red, and twitching, prepared to destroy like only a burning rage could. swift, smooth, and colorful, an artist's most used tool. flowing, swaying, and light, expressing more than words ever could. rough, greasy, and capable, passions have soaked in deep. comforting, quick, and busy, moving at a pace that only a mother could know. meaty, large, and bruised, responsibility has called and they have answered. deliberate, solid, and forceful, power runs through but only behind the flow of love. filthy, scarred, and freezing, forgotten in their desperate need. warm, gentle, and outstretched, habits formed with years of care. firm, leathery, and restrained, limits learned and limits kept. slow, wrinkled, and quiet, a moment at ease is their awaited reward. still, cold, and pale, the life they once held is no more. hands new, hands old, hands gone forever. hands bound, hands free, hands caught in between. hands past, present, and future. on and on, the hands of time are never ceasing.