my hands are getting oldA Poem by Mary Bosworth
my hands are getting old
every vein now proudly stands to attention as if I were a junkie filling them with living they appear a little rough like i never listened long enough to the etiquette teacher when she warned us about ungloved hands and the harmful disaster associated with too much sunlight on pale, ivory skin... My skin has grown silent mature calloused and scarred call me vain but I still think it's pretty. © 2014 Mary Bosworth |
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Added on August 10, 2014Last Updated on August 10, 2014 Author
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