When These Hands

When These Hands-

Reach out to you, yours
remain at your side,
eyes don’t blink
what do you think?

My hands need to roam-
over your face and lips,
chest and back.
Oh how they dislike
not being liked!

When hands can’t wait,
they jitter and twitter.
Can you not see my agony…
Four hands meet and greet then,
in ecstasy they wing to the sky.

Almedia S. Knight (ASK)

poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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