Warmth hands

I walk through the white pages of my book of stories that is waiting to be painted with a kaleidoscope of my experiences. This story has barely begun that is in his clumsy stage, I take a deep breath and the wind envelops me, I pushed forward.

Ah... Your hand is so warmth, within mine in the depths of my heart reaches the end. I can't see a brighter future that your smile and taking my hand as well.

Suddenly I realize the swirl of emotions that I want to hide to the point that it is shameful. The wind traveller runs forward saying that cannot wait.

Ah... The memories resurface as a flashlight swivel, so innocent, so endless, seem to be shining so terribly. Let the cowardice and weakness become a fresh wind.

I would just like to look forward, your hand is so soft and warm that of any person, I want to reach the depths of your heart, I want to hold very tightly to it with the hope if you return the smile, if you stick to my hands, I will have the confidence to go forward while I hold yours.