More Than a Hand

As I grasped the cold of her palm I felt a gentle touch within my soul and I knew I was holding more than a hand. We stood with closed eyes and bowed heads as we listened to the melodious echoes of the Atlantic hitting the southshores of a tiny Island the wrestling sound of elements in the dark, I say "thank you Father" for I knew I was holding more than a hand. Easterly winds at 7 knots with temperatures in the 80's man is it hot her hair obeying the forces of the atmosphere, a perfect scene for a portrait a visual rendering, an ambiance, I smile cause I knew I was holding more than a hand. When heads lifted I noticed her immaculate spherical brown shapes of a full moon perfectly sunken below each brow In stages I release each fingertip and like virtue escaping the dishonored prophet passion escaped my soul and it was then that I knew I was holding more than a hand.