Rough Hands Poem by Preston Person

As rough hands pass through wired sounds,
I feel the longing deep inside for the time my wait is over,
for the time these rough hands can be held in the grasp of her soft palms.

I remember a day when doubt and worry filled my soul,
My heart was simply a place I couldn't go.

In my folly and in my doubt I had not noticed what was in front of me,
something I had been oblivious to see.

God brought me you for this plan of His I didn't yet know,
to learn to live and to laugh and to grow,
these rough hands now being held in the grasp of her soft palms.