These hands...
Harsh and worn, like a lonesome seaside rock
Diminutive in stature but with,
An overwhelming depth has consumed,
Dreams and fears... even the tears.
Time circulated like a roller coaster.
Come closer...
Convinced you know the story,
For you were there with me.
Your love...
Golden bright, as an authentic morning sunrise.
Can never outgrow the grandeur of spaciousness,
These hands have reserved for you,
Laughter with sad... even the bad.
Years flew like petals in the wind.
Come closer...
Let's both narrate the story,
For you were there with me.
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2020.
