Monday, 30 May 2011

No Matter How Old....

Broad and reassuringly strong, 
with knots and scars as testament 
to years of war and work,
they’d grip my little fingers ‘til it hurt,
though never out of malice
(but, possibly,
from fear of loss)

Now I yearn 
to feel that tender pain,
to reach up, 
seeking comfort,
and hold my daddy’s hands
just once again.

1 comment:

  1. This is beautiful, so much so I have tears in my eyes. lovely poem bx