I am at every moment held prisoner by you. You are in my every waking thought. I often find myself thinking of your hands. They are at once, so tender and beautiful, and still so strong, the color of dark summer wheat and as graceful as the summer stalks in the wind. I love watching them as you eat, or work, or talk, or even do nothing at all. Your hands are so feminine. I want to own them as my own, to kiss them, to taste and bite them. Your hands give away all your secrets. Your charm and your passion are forever on display through your beautiful hands. They have been mine all too briefly, and I long to have them warm and safe within my hands once again.
I wrote and sent this to her in August of 2010. We had been to lunch and I could not help but look at how lovely here hands were.