My left hand

I look at my left hand

I see lines of life, love and heart

it feels soft though it is strong

with the many struggles it has endured

much like a Hawaiian orchid

it has color, though it is not purple

it is still beautiful in its own right

because it has yielded to nothing

yes, it wilts and wrinkles with age

having more lines to show from it

and, as the orchid dies,

so too will my hand, body and brain

but not before they, both, bring joy

one to dazzle with just a glimpse

the others to bring forth beauty

with words typed on a page

for those who care to look upon it

©2004 – Tamara Imes

Edited 2015