Palmistry

On a wintry night, I lay my hand against your cheek
And told you a fairy tale my grandfather once read to me.
In that forgotten memory, he sparks to life once again.
A bittersweet joy rouses in my heart,
Makes rich the honey of my words,
Provokes the desire to hold you carefully in comfort;
To adore you as he simply once adored me —
That giving reserved only for children,
And although we no longer laugh so freely
I press my palm to yours
And in the silence know, our heart lines have met
And embraced each other.