Left Hand Poem by Shogunoka Ledesma III

To hold her hand was ecstatic
I know she was mine
At least for a moment
The first touch was electric
All other senses became my hands
Every nerve became my fingertips
As she also held mine.

I had to close my eyes
Or be imprisoned by the vision of her face
And the beauty of her hand
I went deaf and heard the music her fingers played
And she played me like a puppet on a string
Like a fool I danced to her subtle movements
As she also held mine.

As I cradled her hand towards me
I rubbed her smooth skin against my cheek
Oh how I wonder if her whole body was supple as petals
As I explored every crevice and line
I shared her pains and pleasures
Caressing them with gentle pressure
As she also held mine.

She was her hand
Through her pulsating veins
I laid myself on her heart
She was her hand
How I love to feel her warm sweat
And wipe every dropp of fear and doubt.

I could write her a poem or two
a line for every inch of her skin
Or a song to the ballet of her hair
A note for every strand.

Oh when will this end...
The stars for her eyes,
The sun for her smile,
The moon for her mouth.

All because of her hand...
My life for her body,
My soul for her spirit,
My love for her heart.

As she also held mine.