Hands say so much more
than a face ever could
mine, rough and worn
like a guitarist's should
but calloused from determination
and years gone by
Yours, long and thin
with cracks here and there
musk on your skin
the sweet smell in the air
love, perfume, and cigarette smoke
Hers, tan and warm
patience and creativity flourishes
onto the paper; with your touch, there is no harm
the canvas is well nourished
by the passion of your
painting hands
His, a little defect
but never a word out of place
loss and love affect
how you see his face
when, with his calm pen,
he creates his masterpieces
Hands say so much more
than a face ever could