Hands of Time

I've always loved the way each person's hands are different. Each pair carrying the calluses of the life you've built, but more than that, hands carry your individual fingerprints telling the story you've endured. The lines stay the same and they remind you of all the pages you've turned and the stories you've written; the stories you've touched. They tell your story. As a baby, they are one of the first things you learn about yourself. So many memories held inside those lines that never change, just deepen in the wrinkles of time. So many lives touched. So many foods brought close to taste. So many other hands held. Music played. Love embraced. Fear gripped. Relief opened. Mistakes grazed. Raindrops cupped. Pens drawn. Heartbeats felt. Kisses blown. Faces traced. Hands become wrinkled in time, but the same familiar lines are always in place.

Written by Kristina Darrah

#poem #handsoftime #storieswritten