On Hold

In your grasp,
Fingers clasp
A ring round wrist,
Thumb prints nestle,
Digits wrestle into
Flesh and skin,
Limb and bones,
Held and honed
Richly owned.

When this grip,
Began to slip:
With sweat-filled palms,
Veins at risk,
Your holy hold
Refused to twist,
Stuck with this son,
Till he caught on...