for i took her handand she let meher cool hand , soft to the touch and cool to the touch ( im getting confused here , im not sure whether im writing poetry or prose , my words frolic about and stumble and laugh and land where they will ) , so warm as well to the touch and i held it and hugged it with mine to drain her of grieving her mother which i didnt couldnt and which i didnt really mean to or meant to for all i wanted to do and tried to do was to afford her a rest for a heart grown so heavy with motherless .