William Green

I can remember how soft you felt 
Loose skin... Like it was going to melt
Dark marks where old age had kissed your hands 

Strong firm in your hold... Still the youthfulness when you held me in your mold
Patterns on your nails beds of the dryness in your hands

Lines telling stories of touch untold 
Grains embedded in from the things you hold 
The weathering brown marks of the sun on your hands

"Here's the church
There's the steeple 
Look inside
There's the people "

The movement, the touch, the feel of your hands engrained in my mind from when I was a child 

◄ You lied

As I lay to sleep ►

Comments

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Ria Richardson

Wed 23rd Dec 2015 11:48

Thank you x

Lan

Wed 23rd Dec 2015 11:35

Ria, this is beautiful, great images so full of love x

Lynn Hamilton

Wed 23rd Dec 2015 09:48

Beautiful, Ria xx

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Ria Richardson

Wed 23rd Dec 2015 07:30

Thank you so much Martin x

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Martin Elder

Tue 22nd Dec 2015 23:08

What a lovely poem this is Ria. A picture so finely drawn of an older man

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