Hands on

                    Her fingers fly and tickle,
                    across the keyboard too,
                    She strokes the keys real softly,
                    saying, "Oh I love you true"

                    Her letters at first a jumble,
                    upon the screen they come,
                    Til,slowly ever slowly,
                    A pattern has begun.

                    The words they make are lovely,
                    So full of all that's Her,
                    And what they do to this heart,
                    Is cause it quite a stir.

                    If I could take those fingers,
                    I'd kiss them one by one,
                    Just as the hand that owns them,
                    Waves goodbye to every one.