These Hands

These arms are my olive branches And these hands are my emissaries They speak languages I cannot speak And convey emotions I cannot always put into words They have my full delegation to mediate on my behalf To negotiate To appreciate To celebrate Or to capitulate if required They would like to think that they know you well And they never ever tire of trying to know you better Even as I try to sleep they are still obsessed with you To assess you To undress you To caress you To possess you is their desire What can I say, they also know me well It is only you who make us so inspired They know who I love And so they love you too, without reservation Without hesitation Without expectations Often without invitation Nor too much patience as you may have noticed! They are naughty are they not? These emissaries of mine Without a doubt though, let me assure you Your annoyance is not their intention It is your pleasure that is their raison d’être And for the next few nights, they’re really going to miss you!