Hands: The Sunday Muse

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Losing Love

He placed his lips upon her hand
The warmth was slowly fading
His life was changing before his eyes
No chance for hope or waiting
His dearest friend and closest love
was slipping from this world
He knew that he’d be okay now
But then grief would be unfurled.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

22 thoughts on “Hands: The Sunday Muse

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