Little Hands

Your little hands so soft and still, I held them in my own,
Whilst wishing we had more than just a handprint coming home.

I studied every nail and line and every inch of you,
And cried for all the things your little hands would never do.

I’d never get to clean your hands, there’d be no messy play,
l’d never see your fingers point to things you’d try to say.
I’d never hear the sound they’d make whilst splashing in the bath,
Or how they’d cover up your lips whilst trying not to laugh.

I wish so much I could have taught you how to write your name,
Or watched your little hands outstretched to play a catching game.

Your little hands would never feel a scrape or gain a scar,
Nor would they play an instrument or learn to drive a car.

Your little hands, my little hands, forever left unchanging,
No exploring, falling, climbing, drawing and no ageing,
My only wish for you and I is that we had more time,
’Cause I could have spent forever with your little hands in mine.