These hands are piano hands
They once roamed freely across your chest, would you recognize them now in the dark of night

These hands used to be called butterflies
They fluttered freely landing where they pleased, would you allow them still to land where they pleased

These hands once played during the day
At night they restled for freedom as you claimed them as your own, would you now claim them still

They long for the sweet embrace
They cry to play sweet songs
They simply ask for their mates

07/30/2005

Author's Note: Inspired by my piano man. (may be revised to smooth it out a bit, but I tend to leave the original as is)

Posted on 07/30/2005
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