You giant hands that are able to wrap around mine

They consume me

A little rough and firm but still so comforting

Callouses and bumps from where you hold so tightly to the pen

Putting pen to paper as to sketch what you deem only unattainable

Write what you can’t say in the face of fear

Making sure your words still land somewhere

And to paint so delicately with the bristles

Of your paintbrush

Maybe a mural that makes people not rush

Your an artist

Your hands tell a story

your story of hard work and a dream no one really ever believed in

Your dream