Her Hand

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Her Hand

I brush back the thinning hair
studying her face.
Deep lines wrinkle as she smiles back
her watery blue eyes
still bright and beautiful.
I still lose myself in them.

I take her small hand in mine
spotted and calloused with countless tasks
a hand that matches mine.
I asked for this hand in marriage
the hand that raised our children
the hand that holds my life in it.

I lowered my lips to that hand
bestowing a tender kiss.
I whispered in her ear
to tell her how much
I will always adore that hand.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written with dVerse~Poets Pub.

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22 thoughts on “Her Hand

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