The calloused hands that grip so fiercely,
And the strong fingers you clench
Into a daring, rebellious fist
Are the very same that create art,
Sketching so delicately with your pencil,
Painting with the smallest brushes.
The hands that can cause so much pain
And still push people farther away,
Are the very same that draw me in,
Curious, to investigate you.

They seem so harsh at first
And able to crush whatever they hold,
But you have the softest touch.
When you reach to take my hand,
Your grip is careful, yet unafraid,
And the tough illusions melt away.
You hold me and protect me;
You lead me, like your wandering child,
Who is captivated by your love.

My dreams, my hopes, and my heart
Are held in your hands.