Working hands

What I think when looking at my hands.

Glancing at my hands

I see what I have become 

A working man 

Toiling in the sun 

Skin thick with labor 

Fresh drops of blood

Hands who used to do favors 

For someone I loved 

Hands which helped 

While they also healed

Hands that felt 

While they were used as a shield 

These hands long to fit in your loving curves

A thought that excites these shot nerves