Her hands are like delicate poetry,
Flowing with grace and quiet power,
They lift and bear the weight of the world,
Finding in all a gentle rhythm.
Soft, yet strong, like a steady hand,
They cradle me, a silent promise,
In their grasp lies life’s burning flame,
A refuge where storms are shattered.
A symphony, bold in its form,
With every finger, courage arises,
But those who underestimate them will lose,
For their strength holds back the night.