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 Jun 2018 Jackie Mead
Polar
He
 Jun 2018 Jackie Mead
Polar
He
He speaks the language of flowers
Quietly toiling in his garden
Digging, raking and smoothing soil,
Gently coaxing nature to match his vision.
He knows the bees, spiders, beetles, worms and earwigs
Regarding them as friends.
He follows seasons, moon and stars
As others do people
Enthralled at the changes they bring.
He listens as the birds sing
Watching with joy as
Fledgling take wing.
I love your hands
So beautiful
So strong
The way your fingers dance
upon the fretboard
as you play a song
The tenderness in your fingers
as they caress my cheek
something you always do
before drifting off to sleep
The warmth
of your hand
as I take yours in mine
As we stroll through the bush
birds singing
the weather fine
How gentle they are
As you hold
our grandbaby in your arms
Nurturing
full of love
and always so calm
Playing the guitar
made your hands strong
I love their beautiful shape
your loving fingers long
Never was into hands until I met my husband
 Jun 2018 Jackie Mead
Traveler
We all have our reasons
As we come and then go
Living life's lessons
Learning new roles
Not enough time
To experience it all
Life is a game
Love is the ball

There's a beacon Shining
From the poet's soul
Illuminating beauty
Every where it goes
Here we gather
And share what we are
Lesions on heartstrings
Immortal scars

Givers and takers
Losers and thefts
Chasing the rush
The creative release!
Traveler Tim
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