We can never just hold hands it seems,
always fiddling in some way or another.
Sometimes we only have our fingers curled
or we’re only touching the tips
or we put them together, palm to palm
like when you place your hand against a mirror.
She certainly feels like my reflection.

This dance happens with no mind
to the music of drawn out goodbyes
in the parking lot after night has set
and in spite of the body’s call for sleep.
Really we’re just looking for any reason
for one more hug, one more kiss
before we’re forced to wait for tomorrow.

Even more really, we’d rather be
still inside, on the bed, above the covers
her head on my shoulder,
my hand flowing through her hair.
We don’t need words or any other activities,
just the quiet of simply being.
There’s so much peace in a loved one’s presence.

It’s a hard place to leave.
When you’ve been alone for a while like I have
you just want to soak up every sweet second
to make up for the hard journey bliss sometimes takes.
Here, though, she and I are just like our restless hands,
parting only for a moment
but always intending to come right back together.