In the quiet dawn, hands awaken,
Whispering tales of dreams and time,
Fingers trace the soft horizon,
Crafting worlds in silent mime.

Through the day, they weave and wander,
Building bridges made of care,
In their touch, a language tender,
A dance of presence, light as air.

Evening brings a gentle stillness,
Hands entwined in peaceful rest,
In their clasp, a bond unspoken,
A silent pledge, a lover’s quest.

Night descends with stars alighting,
Hands release the weight of day,
In the dark, they dream of morning,
Where they’ll find their joyful play.