Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2021
Her hands looks so very old
Veins protruded like sandhills on a desert.
Her dry cracked skin resembled parched clay.
Fingers with nails that barely covered their tips
Dangled from those very hands.
It was obvious this poor soul had lived a harsh and stressful life.

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul.
I think the Hands are the Map to get there.
Written by
Darline Gelok  69/F/Canada
(69/F/Canada)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems