When Two Hands Fit Like Ours Do
When two hands fit like ours do, palm to palm and fingers laced,
The world sits, undesired; all I need is in your face.
When mornings, bleak without you, find your voice and make reply,
The Sun is milk and honey rising in the sea foam sky.
When I am sat beside you, close enough to feel at ease,
I'm lost and found quite simply in your eyes, the way you breathe.
When two hands fit like ours do, there's perfection in the hold,
And each will have the other with their lover's band of gold.
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