February 9th, 2011

Of Age

The most delicate hand, could be the kindest you ever held
and without reserve could also be the most unappreciated
I've always been drawn to them and when I was young
I remember the thin wrinkled skin of my dad's hands

Then, I was so afraid of the day when he would be gone.
Now I look at my own and they are his, a generation away
If you were very old and I saw you sitting at the window
(an empty stare, as you counted chipmunks, birds or cars)
it would be filled with much more than expression would belie