Right

My hand is empty.

So I try to fill it.

I try to fill it
with words,
but they leak out
through pens, and pencils,
and type.

I try to fill it
with pictures
but they escape
through paint and brush,
or charcoal, or another pencil.

I try to fill it
with music,
but it falls out
through valves or keys
or bow or strings.

My hand is empty.

And I try to fill it.

But the only thing that truly can
is yours.