Hands

Eyes are the window to the soul.

Perhaps. 

Better?

Your hands are my window to your soul.

I’m obsessed with hands; Their shape; Their texture; Their size; Their feeling.

The meanings we intuit from these things are often silly and sometimes unfounded.  It’s just a sign or a help along or a wistful thought. 

A lingered touch; a firm shake; a first hand hold complete with nuanced smiles and side glances.

Strong and powerful, gentle and soft.

Hands. 

I am obsessed with hands.