#holdinghands
Writing Prompt : Holding Hands
You took it without hesitation
Unexpected and delightful
Warmth held within such a small space
Blocks of searching for the perfect place
Never letting go
Walking at the same pace
The butterflies fluttered
As the heart skipped beats
Place found, door opened
Brief disconnect
Sitting inside the loudness
You reach over for her hand again
Hold it ever so softly
Between both of your hands
Such a sweet and comfortable feeling
Your hands and hers
Fitting like perfect puzzle pieces
Withing one another
WHEN YOU HOLD HANDS WITH A CHILD
When you hold the hand of a child…you cannot help but smile
two hands joined that once were two apart
There’s something innocent and pure once they put their hand in yours
you feel it all the way down to your heart.
You may not think it matters much…when an old and young hand touch…
but a memory immediately spikes.
The moment you feel that tiny hand…at once you understand
as you remember what innocence was like.
Your memory turns back slow…to a time not long ago
when you held onto a hand …perhaps an arm
and you know this to be true…how they put their faith in you
and it’s your responsibility to keep them safe from harm.
And though you never go to church that doesn’t mean you do not search
which makes this moment both wonderful…and odd
For when your fingers interlace…as you’re two hands then embrace
you wonder it this is what it’s like…to hold the hand of God.
That’s why old people understand…when a child holds our hand
for a moment…or a littlest of whiles
for that moment we are blessed that their hand in ours is pressed
and that is why we can’t do anything…but smile.
STILL HOLDING HANDS
“Why are you always holding Grandma’s hand?” she asked.
Grandpa smiled…as was his way.
“The reason we hold hands,” he answered
“goes back to that first day.”
“That first day she told me she loved me…
‘Hold my hand’ is all I could think to say
because I knew if she wasn’t holding my hand
I would have easily floated away.”
“But you’ve been married 40 years!” the young boy said.
“I guess I don’t understand.
Why, after all this time…
Why do you still hold her hand?
Grandpa looked across the room at Grandma
the wrinkles in his face turned red…
then he smiled…as was his way
“Same reason.” was all he said.
THE FIRST TIME
The first time they held hands…
as they walked along the shore…
was when they began to understand…
what hands were created for.
HOLDING HANDS
I had to smile when I heard him whisper in her ear…
as by me this old couple strolled…
“How lucky I am to still be holding
the only hand I ever wanted to hold.”
SOFT HEARTS
They say the very young and the very old have the softest hearts.
That one possesses wisdom while in the other innocence dwells.
Which is perhaps, they say, why these two ends of the rainbow
get along so well.
As I was walking in the park he came up from behind…
He gently took my hand in his…he had something on his mind.
There were birds along the waters edge…
he didn’t wait for my assent…
he pointed in their direction, tugged my hand
and, quickly, off we went.
We chased the birds to our mutual delight…
his grip…determined, safe and strong.
The birds would fly away then fly right back
happy to play along.
He was not afraid to be near the water…
not afraid of the unknown…
Instinctively he knew by holding hands
he was not there alone.
We only walked together for a little while
before his interest realigned…
But even as he toddled off
he left his palm print etched in mine….
I say it matters not how old you are
if you walk hand in hand with a young one often…
every time they slip their hand in yours
your heart is bound to soften.