Together

When hands are locked together,
The world melts away.
Palms coincide:
Universes collide
Within themselves forever-
Or at least as long as they
Remain, still side-by-side.

When metatarsals mingle,
Lovers oft can be
Beacons of light,
Shining true, shining bright:
A symbol, seeming single
Of eyes that now only see
The others, in delight.

When phalanges are held fond,
Their image is sweet:
Companions, dear,
Held so soft and so near.
Yet it's the strangest of bonds,
That makes a couple complete
And safe from hate and fear.

Holding Hands by Singer Joy


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Photoshop:
curves, bit of clone to extend legs