Lesson 67
He held his own hands together,each finger on top of the other,
and sat, looking forlorn, with eyes
closed for fear the morning light
would steal away from him the vision
of his love, soon to be leaving,
off to some far, distant land,
where she won’t/can’t/could hold his hand,
and so he pictured her sweet visage
behind closed eyes, loving that image,
while holding his own hands wishing
it were hers, who he was missing.
Poetry by Sameen
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Written on 2025-04-07 at 16:47
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