Foxtrot

On a chilly night,  Sitting on her right,  Wearing a bracelet white,  And after a huge fight,  She extends her hands,  I love those hands,  The ones that hold my hands,  The warm, soft hands,  Oh so I miss those hands,  Around my waist those hands,  Tightly gripped those hands,  With some tiny hair strands,  Placed on my laps,  Around my hand,  she wraps,  Those sweet,  luscious traps,  From between those gaps,  When alone,  I stand,  I miss those beautiful hands. Those Hands  Written by Foxtrot 

 For one last time  This one long rhyme I casually spew  Just for you With the winter divine And a dark chilly night Our paths intertwine When the time was just right The moon is beautiful, isn't it Hand in hand as we used to sit With every brief smile I shall taste a poison vile An year long guest As I put to rest A heart taken A heart shaken Some love given And some forgiven In the lengthy and long, pages of history You will always be, my favourite mystery A charming gaze And eyes of haze Some perlish rays And your naughty ways Shan't be forgotten  Till I lie rotten, In a grave six feet beneath Under a beautiful wreath I wave my hand  As accross you I stand A farewell smile A poison vile The night was long And so was our song But as the sun rises,  Gone are our surprises