His hands are very different from mine.
They are soft, without a wrinkle in sight,
His skin is perfectly smooth,
One could even say he glows.
He wears rings bedazzled with jewels,
Never forgetting to display them.
Then there is my hands and I,
They are rough and covered in dirt,
My skin is marred with scars,
The only ring I wear is the one we share
On our ring fingers to the left.
His hands stil...
