Love’s hand

If love had hands,
it’d see through touch,
it’d judge through warmth,
it’d feel through caress.

If love was blind,
it’d not see colour,
it’d not see clothes,
it’d not see riches,
it’d not see the greys,
it’d not see the creases,
it’s not bother for vanity.

If love had hands,
it’d be slow,
it’d pause and experience,
it’d nurture,
it’d give while receiving – every single time.

If love was blind,
it’d listen more,
it’d call out more,
it’d remember more,
it’d explore every time, like the first time.

If love had hands,
it’d need to be close,
it’d be intimate,
it’d be sure,
it’d be thorough.

It love was blind,
it’d not see dark,
it’d not need be distant,
it’d not look out.

It love had hands,
it’d have texture,
it’d have a grip,
it’d not need words,
it’d be my mother’s hands,
it’d be your hands.