I look down and I see these
hands of mine that
don’t look like they belong
to me….weathered and worn,
signs of veins that want
to speak of their pain
from lifting too many
heavy bags and subjected
to the strains of ex –
haustion while wanting
to breathe into a life of
air filled sighs that
will veil my eyes and
let me enjoy their
strength from the years,
tears, and shape-shifting
lines that make me
proud in the end of
my life, lived full,
untethered, undeterred, and
fervent in all aspects,
flailing with no regrets to
post aloud, while I
sit, cheshire grin and all…
feeling proud.
Photo Credit: @lattefarsan Flickr via Compfight cc
