| 12:08p |
New concept for my blurty...
Some time ago, I abandoned my blurty for a xanga blog. Well, I've come to reclaim this little piece of internet. From now on, this will be the blog I use for all my writing, whether it be stories, songs, poems, whatever creative thing pops into my mind.
So, today, I will reveal to you an older poem... enjoy!
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My Father's Hands
They clench in worry
over my unknown location.
But when I am found,
they stiffen in discipline.
They fold together in prayer
when my Grandmother is ill.
And when she is gone
they wipe tears away.
They are large and worn,
ragged and beaten by the years.
Much like the imperfect man
are my father’s hands.
Current Mood: creative |