"Bear claw" and "bird’s wing" -- that’s what he had called them. He slips his hand over mine, and I smile fondly at the recollection. "You look nice tonight." "Shh. Watch the play." His hand is bigger than mine, but not over-powering-- very tender and strong. I run my thumb over the callous on his ring finger. "Where’s this from?" "Writing poetry for you," he jokes. From the corner of my eye, I watch as he begins to trace the outline of my hand, and the soft rushing sound of his flesh against mine sends a warmth through my body. And I push our palms together, just to feel the heat of his hand in mine. Our fingers open and close. Open and close. "You do look nice tonight." Our fingers fall between one another once more, and the bear claw holds the bird’s wing.
Reason for writing:
Not one of my favorites, but I thought I'd share it anyway (you finally got your way, Susan!).
Birth sign: Virgo
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