Other Hands
Other arms have
encircled my waist,
led me through
wildflower pink hills.
Other hands have
lingered,
sketched silent questions
onto the palm of my hand.
Other eyes have
brushed against mine
singing silent love songs,
yet no song could I return.
When you finally held me
for our first kiss of many,
my heartbud, at last, opened,
my fragrance was set free.
Pris Campbell
Copyright 9/25/2001
Music: Essa Fase Do Amor
