Impressions

The handshake was slick, a moment so brief,

I felt warmth meet chill, like joining a leaf

to the harsh wind of doubt, it crept in to stay,

a grip full of questions—what would it say?

Did I hold on too tight, or did I let go?

the right kind of balance, but how would I know?

In business attire, where smiles often fade,

my anxious self, masked, in the dance of charade.

Each pulse speaks a language, unsteady yet clear,

showing strength yet the tremble, revealing the fear.

As I walked away, pondered what it might mean,

a handshake’s a window, yet also a screen.