I don’t remember starting
Such an easy habit to take
Human hands were built for grasping,
The thirst for keeping’s hard to slake
Its hardest with the small things
You’re not sure why you had
It seems they must be somethings
Though you didn’t want them bad
Sure is sure if I didn’t hold tight
I’d lose me too—all I’ve won.
Liquid eyes, and wheels off the trike
If I stopped this holding on.
And my knuckles would prob’ly return
To a natural rosy hue
And yellow sun, and nose-top burn—
If I stopped holding on to you.
Beans Repository 