Fingers

I need for you
to take my hand
and pull me down the streets of your reverie
past the houses of your yesterdays
the antiquity of who you were
under blanket streetlights
and snowflakes
(or rain, if it suits you)
to the "Under Construction" signs
and the beauty that is who you will become
Kiss me, here, then
beneath all the "maybe"s and "could be"s
because I don't need them.
Hold me, here
before everything changes
and the buildings fade away.

I want to be here when your construction signs are replaced with red ribbons.

but until then,
take my hand,

and we can walk in the comfort of presence
and the feeling of your fingers, 'twined with mine