by lanolit

When she was young

he took her careless hands

in a steady grasp

and ran full speed

through fields of wild, lush blooms

and the days fell clear and bright

When her hands became heavy

clasping years of toil

he soothed and folded them neatly

peeling off the tediousness of time

the scatter and spill of shared burdens

Now, her shaky hands

motion aimlessly

bereft of delicate peace

he reaches to hold

those once beautiful, reckless hands

of the one savage soul that burned for him

and to caress those lovely fingers

yes, still lovely now

in the twilight of life

in the absence of heartbeats




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