Patricia Taxxon
Hands
Dripping softly down much like
Dry tears upon a wooden chair
A lonesome cougar finding love
Through fingers light and feelings bare
Barely passing through each day as
Garden snakes crash his parade
He knows what he will have to say
To let his heart not stop

Say, won’t you put your hands on me?
To be here with you, I feel so magical

Striding grandly out his door all
Ready for his meeting true
He longs to run his fingers through
The ruffles of his cheeks he grew
He always stays so quiet
In the midst of this great angel
Will he speak the words he needs to say
To let his heart not stop

Say, won’t you put your hands on me?
To be here with you, I feel so magical

Breathe for the moment
Wait till he’s ready
Breathe for the moment
Wait till he’s ready
Say, won’t you put your hands on me?
To be here with you, I feel so magical