Seeing Hands

Her fingers feel the soft grass beneath bare toes and she sees the blue of the summer sky though the touch of racing fingers across a colorless page She smells the apple blossoms that waft on gentle breezes and hears the honey bee who visits each tiny flower as a distant whippoorwill sings in the June morning Her mouth waters at the taste of wild strawberries sweet and ripe as the juice runs down her chin and she absentmindedly wipes it away She feels the sun on walks with her dog and wonders what does a yellow sun look like as through the page she feels its warmth Over the raised dots her fingers fly with a thirst to experience more of the life that she can only imagine outside her dark world Turning the page, she reads the clouds that fly past in a earnest wind that plays with kites in kaleidoscope colors pulsating in a fighting breeze A knock at the door and the book is closed as finding her cane, she is back in the darkness of a unforgiving world of questions without answers