Hands

I've always wondered what it would be like to be loved by rugged hands. Hands that had worked under sunshine and rain showers, with love for the job during the good times and doubling energy and care during the bad. They would belong to someone as confident as they were on the field. They would know of hard times yet still understand the mechanics of tenderness. 
Hands with short nails, thicker skin and who often get dirty.
Hands with hardened palms, but whose fingertips still know the ecstasy of touch.