She Took My Hand

look at my hands, they're not the hands of a fisherman they're not the hands of a carpenter look at my hands and tell me how many miles do you feel across deserts and plains, they're not the plains of a hunter they're not the deserts of a fleer for days and nights of wandering, no, look at my hands, they're the hands of a poet, they're the hands of an observer a connector of concepts I have the hands of a moment with you