Hands
I remember people’s hands the most,
maybe from a lifetime of averting my eyes.
I can see the smart girl’s curved pinkies,
or the fan-shaped nails of his artistic fingers.
When I meet my father in my dreams,
Even there I am looking at his tidy hands,
mixing the dough, a ring long since pawned-
Never looking into his face to say goodbye.
4 thoughts on "Hands"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Very well done.
thank you
Oh this is really good . And, it gets better on 2nd, 3rd reading. Deceptive in its brief couplets. There is so much here. Hands/gestures are so telling of a person, really good poem.
Thank you