Sep. 27, 2019
An old woman once told me
that I should play the violin because
of my long slender fingers.
My palms now are lined and wizened,
spots, on the back, speak
of ageing, like the rings of trees.
A Russian ring, on my left
wedding finger, a sign of wide
wealth received across years.
My fingers do serve important work,
a grandson clings to one per hand,
marches on to independence.
Their healing gift, pressured
across aching backs and limbs,
remove knots, bring rest.
Peter Clarke
Latest comments
25.11 | 22:15
Grief is experience through the mundane. Simple but powerful. The accompanying image really compliments the poem.
07.11 | 11:14
Hi Peter,
A great observation! Social media can be a scary place... I also need to reduce my time there
Hugs,
John.x
06.11 | 16:24
A great one, Peter, in the context you describe. I don't read social media myself, I doubt my equilibrium could stand it. 'The balance of his mind disturbed' yes, I think it would be.
06.11 | 15:59
Yes, gossip is a weapon of mass destruction.
In my business as well as personal life I have zero tolerance.