Hands.
Funny things, if you think about it.
So many things they can do.
Tickle.
Hold.
Punch.
Draw.
Create.
Destroy.
Arguably the most complex and interesting piece of the anatomy.
You can tell where someone works by their hands, often.
Rough hands, black under the nails: coal or oil worker.
Smooth, long fake nails, painted: desk job, usually.
They sum up one's life experiences in layers of skin.
All the things they've touched. The stories they've aided in telling. The gestures of comfort and love.
You hold hands with those you love.
Layers of love.
You wring or fidget them when worried.
Run them through you hair.
Or another's hair.
Gentle.
Nearly impossible to draw, they can be puzzles.
Tendons.
Bones.
Joints.
Veins.
Wrinkles where they bend and how they're shaped.
How they move with such grace.
Or strike with fury.
Long fingers. Short fingers.
Smooth palms, calloused ones.
Where have they been?
So many people in the world, double the hands.
Each with a story to tell.
If hands could talk...
What would they say?
