Whispers In My Hand

Whispers In My Hand

It is almost wicked, the way I listen
to your whisper in my hand.
I appear so upright and alert.
I hear whole conversations & wonder
why no one can hear the sound of you,
the leaf like rustle of your voice in my hand.
I hold my hand loosely & you roam
the island of my palm in small sounds.
Some days, an ocean of sweat, salts
the delicate crevices and I am afraid
that you are trapped & watching
through the cupped tunnel of my fingers
for a sweet ship of sails.
Today I heard the distant music
of someone humming beneath a gray pier.
The sun slips through the slats
on small volcano mounds.
A curled whisper of early spring
sleeps in the damp sand.

Reviews

[Jibey]

Lovely and evocative writing, remembering the good times, catching the lingering memories in the palm of your hand. So moving.

[Eagle Cruagh]

What an enviable state.
You got the whole world in your hands.
This is a beautiful poem, something that
should be in a frame, hanging on a
hospital wall. It is a healing experience
to read it.
Thank you.
100 %
---- Eagle Cruagh

[Ed Hart]

only angels listen to voices with their hands...

[W.k.kortas]

An ode to the indirect--there are 'whispers" and shades of gray and peeking through the space between fingers galore. The learned Donald has hit on something here; your pieces are true-to-life (that is certain), but the reality is filtered, distilled. This is affecting, evocative work.

[Donald Meikle]

reading you is like slipping into childhood's magic dreamingsliding down clouds and skipping between blue snowflakes. It's fun Phib

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Very captivating images stimulate my mind and thoughts of how powerful love can be and make everything around us beautiful, thats what comes to mind reading this delightful piece.