The Beauty of Aging


He wears the golden emblem
over his wedding ring—
the few the proud the brave—

these hands remember

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She washes bouquets of steel
in fragrant suds—
for him for children lost in time—

these hands remember

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the years offered
in love when patience
trembled in fear

before hope was for an eternity
remembered
and age was found in the work
of their hands.


“Love risking”

The prompt for this week was to write a risk poem. There are all kinds of risks we can take. Just getting up in the morning can be risky at times. We risk our health, we risk our lives, we risk losing. On the flip side, we risk winning. I chose to go with something we all struggle with–love. Revealing your heart can be damaging as well as uplifting. It’s always a risk.

“Love risking”

It’s risky to open a wound and cry
nose-blowing grief. I never wanted you
to see me this way, sharing female woes,
but you didn’t throw rocks or construct me
into a demon, instead you kissed my
fingers and tucked my cold toes between your
aching calves pretending that nothing else
mattered more than brushing my pain into
your worn palms.

Lie if you must but tell me my grief will not
risk our love forever.

(picture courtesy of stock.xchng)