These hands of mine across the page now glide
Tracing words whose meaning's shape they've spanned
More times than memory itself can bide
Beneath your palm - who understands my hand?
What truths they spill with each mark laid may hold
More than was meant, less than will be said
As on this skin impressions have been molded
Deeper than any letter penned or read
For hands bear histories within their lines
Memories graven that will not fade away
Through all the signs and portents love entwines
More tales than ink alone could hope convey
So though the pen gives voice, with care I write
Lest too much heart on naked page lie bared to sight
