Now my arthritic hand

Strokes your wrinkled cheek.

My aged eyes

Follow your brittle motion.

And I still seek

With the same emotion

For what, in years,

I thought I’d found.

In my deaf ears

Your words still sound.

As I think of them again

I know that none of it has been in vain.

18-07-2010 om 20:58 geschreven door Anne Stone