Your Hands Into Mine —— Tamas Wells
The birde could hardly raise her voice
　　I heard ceiling fans and noise
　　I tried to talk about the ways
　　I measured out the grace
　　But your hands into mine
　　
　　A size larger than the last
　　Arrived When I broken the glass
　　I would seldomtake thje stairs
　　In time for me to be aware
　　Of your hands into mine
your hands into mine your hands into mine