Two Hands

The two hands together, They enclose each other In a solemn embrace, And then softly part To go their separate ways, At fifteen past three Held for a while at lunch Then withdrawn, Go round with time And meet me at instances Which allow us to be one, Perhaps at six thirty We can watch the setting sun? Two hands so far away, Time brings them close Then tears them away, Save for that sacred moment Which lasts less than a minute; The two hands dissolve in it, Each folding within itself The other ever so gently, That even when they part The two hands travel as if Each was guided through time By the sheer force of the other. My watch has stopped, So suddenly stops the ticking, No more tocking, My watch has stopped At two to twelve, And now the two hands Stand still in time, So close, yet so far, Reaching for another in vain, Time chooses to stop now? Now, when it has nothing to gain.