Whose hands are
Whose eyes
Whose present
Even Death relent.
Whose hope
Whose dream
Whose life extended
Now blended
In mine.
Whose blue veins
crisscross my pale, freckled, back of hands
Whose future ran through the line of happiness and life, and other unclear folds.
Whose eyes
Reflecting back,
Looking out from our snapshot,
Nestled in my husband's chest
That unmistaken severity
Wounded gaze
¶ 1:57 PM
Mother, Engineer, writer, manager, and more. I am a bit of everything, a creature of God. I am passionate with life. I fear death and its many forms. I love my mind, cherish my body. I express through WORDS.
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