The joy you provided me
transports me to
floating fossils,
swollen tonsils,
and hearing aids
that kept you within an ear's length.
I remember water;
I remember the way that making blood colder
was an antidote to growing older.
When you grew old,
I recognized that sandpaper shows
beauty in rigidity,
and even the tough
show fragility.
Taste buds and rewired pathways
helped write the book,
but nothing will ever parallel
the compensation,
softness and
comfort
that sandpaper provided my skin.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 2:06 AM UTC
The joy you provided me
transports me to
floating fossils,
swollen tonsils,
and hearing aids
that kept you within an ear's length.
I remember water;
I remember the way that making blood colder
was an antidote to growing older.
When you grew old,
I recognized that sandpaper shows
beauty in rigidity,
and even the tough
show fragility.
Taste buds and rewired pathways
helped write the book,
but nothing will ever parallel
the compensation,
softness and
comfort
that sandpaper provided my skin.
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