Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Two hands make a whole

Air rushes between my fingers and lets out an empty whistle
A whistle that sings a story about what is missing in these spaces.

Your hand clasped in mine makes a comforting whole.
And as a whole, we both refrain from letting go until we have to.

Out of habit, my hand looks for yours-- only to find that your hand is no where in sight. Therefore, these empty spaces between my fingers shall continue to whistle this sad tune until our hands yet again make a whole.

"I like it when your hand accompanies mine,"
wrote the lonely hand longing for your return.