Sunday, 11 May 2014


of all the intricacies
i want etched in my mind
i tell myself
i won't need to memorize your hands
the shapes, the bends, the ridges
where your lines and wrinkles end
and mine begin
as counted days of holding on
still sweetly grow
and two hands blend into one
till yours lets go
and i'll look closer than ever
and hope to find
my hands as old as yours
with lines of tenderness
still reaching, serving, sharing
with wrinkles from pressing and smoothing
and faithful, humble folding
with secret giving
and i'll tell myself
maybe i should have memorized
and i'll wonder
will my hands ever
look like yours?

words and images © melody armstrong 2014