Those Hands

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