These Old Hands

These old hands- The hands that once played the golden threads of country music- are now scored by years of performing- The wrinkles on my face are the writings of a broken man- Deep lines- carved on my skin by age- an emptiness rests in the far-reaching solitude of my soul- All that I wrote is etched on my heart- like an over flowing river- In my eyes-tears drafted their revelations- and imprinted their most profound thoughts- Rosarys of lonlinss- I did not pray for this- Desperate thread- my heart did not twist it- Two tears Two sad eyes in shadow- But through them I finely saw a rose in these old hands-California Blue