Her hand in my hand
S. Wheeler
Her hand in my hand,
Soft as the south wind,
Soft as a colt's nose,
Soft as forgetting;
Her cheek to my cheek,
Red as the cranberry,
Red as a mitten,
Red as remembering—
Here we go round like raindrops,
Raindrops,
Here we go round
So snug together,
Oh, but I wonder,
Oh, but I know,
Who comforts like raisins,
Who kisses like snow.