Skin so soft, I hesitate to touch it sometimes with my age-worn own. My knuckles, a roughened ridge spanning the width of my hand. Yours, an innocent row of dimples where hand meets fingers. When you reach up to hold my hand – or maybe just a finger or two – I am honored. It’s a gift, so swift in the offering that one might miss it, mistake it as just something we do, holding hands. But I catch it, and hold it, and tuck the feeling away in my mind, like a hand slipping into a glove, to keep warm for when coldness sets in.
WordPress Writing 201, Assignment Three. Prompt: skin. Form: prose poem. Device: internal rhyme.
What Rhymes with Stanza? 
That was lovely.
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Thank you! And thanks for commenting.
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Beautifully done!
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Thank you! And thanks for commenting.
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You’re very welcome!
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This is a clever poem, many layers. Thanks for sharing!
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Thank you! And thanks for reading.
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Oh wow. It can be interpreted as a mother and child or a baby and a granny! Nice one. 😀
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Thank you!
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Superb poem. I love the contrasting image you opened your poem with 🙂
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Thank you. And thanks for commenting.
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You’re welcome!
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