Without a Hand

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a poem I wrote, when my grandfather died. He was very dear to me. I get a lot of (what I think is) humor from him.

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Submitted: November 17, 2011

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Submitted: November 17, 2011

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Without a hand

 

The pen writes upon the parch,

Without a hand to guide it’s march.

 

The knife cuts the kitchen clean,

Without a hand to guide it seems.

 

The kite flies without a hand,

To guide it through this wonderland.

 

The ball rolls across the street,

Without a hand for it to meet.

 

The axe falls upon the tree,

Without a hand to yank it free.

 

The child goes into the world,

Without a hand to make it twirl.

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 NicodemusCain. All rights reserved.

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