by Lou Ruggieri

Created on: May 09, 2011

Hands of Time, Hands of Mine.


Years are hard to hold when they begin to multiply
Yet every one has had to pass through these hands
Slow but sure they have all passed on by
And only now am I beginning to understand

Like the swirling prints on each fingertip
That seem to have no reason or rhyme
There is a pattern to the chaos even as the days slip
Marking undoubtedly the remnants of passing time

The valleys and grooves look happy occasionally
Like the months and days I look back on here and again
And I wonder if it's really haphazardly
Or if each beginning already had its scripted end

Fingernails bitten simply all to much
From panic and worry founded and forgotten
Like the memory of the softest touch
That drifts away as another year descends

Blisters and callouses decorate my skin
Proof of decades of earning and making my way
Everlasting mementos of where I've been
Though I know, even these things won't always stay

The crossroads of wrinkles look now like hash marks it's true
A score card tally of everything I've ever held so tight
A love, a loss, passion or regret, all have slipped through
With every passing minute, busy day or lonely night

The lessons I carry are the only things that haven't gone
As these withered hands can surely show
And though I've tried forever to hold on
I know now, all I have left, is to let go

Learn more about this author, Lou Ruggieri.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.