Your Tender Grip
As I grasp those hands in the still of dark
I see my own through yours
The ones that fondle my back on tired nights,
Squeezing me close to slay my thoughts.
Each finger, a real emblem
Of our home and family,
Embracing, reaching, and assuring.
While I scan my hands,
I cannot help but be reminded
That these I, too, wish to extend
Among our four children;
Like caresseses of love and rough play.
Yours are delicate and soft in shades of light;
Never scraping through toils of the days
But warm like sunrise awakening.
As I rub your coiled fist against mine
I feel the grace of life's token
That I am an extension of you,
Sensing I am never alone
While the grip rests on my head as we sleep.
Nette Onclaud: With These Hands Contest
12- 16-13
Entry from Manny Paras
Visual 1
Copyright © Manny Paras | Year Posted 2013
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