With fair hands that are petite and sexy, Raena’s fingers are cryptic like a spider, the shadows shifting in mystery.
The wayward touch of the candied apple nails. Led out of darkness by a galactic sparkle embroidered there on ring finger.
Its twenty below zero, the snows swirl in several massive storms, the palm of your hands grow warmer and warmer than all hearths in realm
Gently under clean, sweet water, she washes her hands, sooth and with care, grabbing for a dry towel the Prince in the Night offers to dry with good embrace.
Descending the palace staircase, the prince watches her hands glide down the railing, a crook in the step causes a fall, rushing to your side, swoops in and catch, then lifts the goddess into a vase, where she is watered like the rose she is.
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