"The Hands of Time"

The hands of time have turned her gray. and made her bones so frail. She sits alone in a rocking chair. Her skin so white and pale.

She stares out through the window pane. Her eyes are filled with malaise. Beside her chair a wooden cane. With imprints from hands that are worn and callused.

She yearns for the days of yester year A time when she was young and fair. She's rocking a lone in her rocking chair. Alone with no one to care.

Oh ... she thinks if only once she could dance again. Or run through a meadow of clover. She was a lass of beauty back then But today those yester years are over.

Yes, the hands of time have turned her old. Left her to just sit and watch the rain. While memories that wander and are left untold. And with a heart that is full of pain.

By: Sandy This poem was entered into a contest It was based on the word Hands. Copyright ©2001 Sandra Ratliff

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