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Poetry: “Lines”

A little thing about life and the marks it leaves on you.



I remember as a child I’d hold
My mother’s hands and
Trace the lines
I saw there plain upon her palms
The crevices and indentations
Wear and tear of all her years
I’d marvel at this tiny map
A tale of all my mother’d done
Comparing them
With my own hands
The smoothness of a child’s palm
It seemed so alien to me
How my hands might
Turn out that way
That life could etch itself so deep
With lines drawn deep
As if in sand

Now I am older and I see
My hands are much like those I’d held
Like my mother I have lived
I’ve worked and toiled
And done so much
To look upon my palms you’ll find
Lines criss-crossing over them
When I doubt I’ve lived enough
I simply have to look on down
Open up my hands and see
Yes, see my life drawn out in lines


Copyright © 2017 · All Rights Reserved · Fantasy Transcendent

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