Callaused Hands

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem

Submitted: January 07, 2020

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Submitted: January 07, 2020

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CALLOUSED HANDS

 

The Old Man giggled,

silver hair askew.

Full and fine it swept

back above eyes

cold and steely gray.

 

The girls held hands and stared.

Could this be the man they thought they knew?

Or had ogres grabbed him when last he slept

and left him standing awash in lies,

his voice become a donkey's bray?

 

He reached for them. The light was dim

within that wood-floored tiny shed.

There, few rays of sun attacked the shadows

and sea breeze sighed at eves.

 

He reached for them, hard boned fingers grim

in their quest, leaving naught but dread

in their wake, where a touch of fire followed

his fingers' paths. 

Privately he grieves.

 

But in the girls' souls innocence cries

and in their hearts, the Old Man dies. 

The Old Man Dies.

###

 


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