Your Hands

Your hands. 

To them I glance. 

Wondering how they feel. 

As I look at them

wrapped

around the steering wheel. 

Fingers so long and strong.  

But full of grace. 

I am almost sure

how they would feel. 

Under my lashes at them

I peek. 

Visions of your hands

start to swirl around

in my head. 

Touching me here  

and

                                                                                   

touching me there. 

As you drive on without a care. 

If I were a bolder soul

I would reach out and take 

Just one of them in my hands. 

And bring it to my cheek. 

But, alas, I am too weak. 

Before I can even

start

I retreat. 

My hands to myself I keep. 

Sitting there next to you

I feel 

To weep. 

Curse me for being too timid

and scared.

But to reach out and touch you

I do not dare. 

Sitting there

locked in fear. 

As my passion

I silently bear. 

As under my lashes

at

your hands I stare.