My memory of my kind mother's fragrant hands, patiently spoon-feeding me as a child, never fades. How I remember her warm, gentle hand leading me to school for the very first time, a strange place where my heart felt completely at peace, knowing my mother was there... And my paternal grandmother's soft hand gently stroking my back, lulling me to sleep on those sweltering summer afternoons... For any child, what happiness could compare to being cherished and doted on by a mother, a grandmother, by women overflowing with unconditional love?
When I started high school and got into the public school Pétrus Trương Vĩnh Ký, all I saw were... boys. I quickly got permission from my family to find extra classes in math, physics, chemistry, foreign languages, music, and so on, that had both boys and girls... Oh, the atmosphere was much more fun, much fresher... because of the presence of those "little flowers".
Looking at the tiny, pretty hands of my female classmates, my heart fluttered with a longing to hold them. After a few days of thinking, I found a way: I started to read lots of books on palm reading! Because I had a motive, it was easy for me to memorize all the profound techniques taught in the books. So, the girls willingly offered their delicate, soft, beautiful little hands for me to hold. They excitedly urged me: "Help read my fortune, Sơn!", "Please, read my palm, Sơn!"... Oh my, a strange, floaty feeling seeped into my heart and mind... "The fortune teller" barely remembered what to say. Holding a girl's hand, I fumbled for a while before calming down. Otherwise, I would have forgotten everything I'd read and might have lost those adorable, charming little "clients."
Years passed, and growing up in turbulent times, when visiting relatives and acquaitances in the hospital, I saw the nurses, doctors, and medical staff working tirelessly, without minding the effort. I secretly admired those hands that soothed countless wounds and healed so many in pain and suffering.
On some weekend strolls or at the movies, I saw on screen a beautiful woman with exquisitely fair hands,
captivating a valiant lord and causing an entire kingdom and its palaces
to tremble.
In real life, the hands of countless women in society have
gradually become hardened and withered over time from hard work in all
professions to help support their families, from managing housework to
preserve their warm nests, from tending the backyard garden and front lawn
to make them even more vibrant, and so much more. Then there are women
who are not only beautiful on the outside but also possess beautiful
souls: personally cooking meals, wrapping charity gifts, lovingly
embracing orphans in their arms, and comforting many lonely elderly
people. Along with their minds, hearts, and smiles, they are beautifying
this world with their hands.
We truly cannot fathom what society would be like or where humanity would end up without the wondrous hands of women.
My deep admiration and love for those wonderful hands can never be fully
expressed in words. I wish to offer a token of my gratitude through the
song "May I Hold Your Hands."
- Ly Binh Son, USA
Song Lyrics:
May I hold your hands, my dear,
To warm this heart that’s been lonely for years.
Each night in my dreams, your beauty shines bright,
And your hands, the loveliest sight.
Oh, won’t you soon give me your hands, so soft, velvet-like,
Let me kiss them with all the love I hold inside.
Why turn away now, your eyes so young and shy,
Stirring my thoughts with a quiet sigh.
Those gentle hands could leave hearts entranced,
Their grace and poise could sway kingdoms and lands.
So sweet their scent, it stills the drifting clouds,
Such tender touch, the purest healing shrouds.
Rough, calloused hands that help flowers bloom,
Bravo, beloved hands, now and forevermore!
Let me cradle your sacred, cherished hands,
A trace of fragrance, my blissful spirit expands.
Don’t you worry if they’re not soft or fair,
Let me hold and kiss them with my truest care.
Link for this post: http://www.lybinhsonofficial.com/2025/06/love-song-by-ly-binh-son-may-i-hold.html
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