Paul Schneiter Poet Rhyme

Hands

The hands we held in love’s first birth
Are weathered, worn, and unsightly.
But they reflect a love of greater worth
That time taught us not to take lightly.

I grasp your hand and you grasp mine
To steady one another’s faltering walk.
Thus a new love is born, true and fine
Nurtured at the command of the clock.

I rub your back, you massage my feet
In service learned after love’s first birth.
Thus we know aged hands are sweet,
For they prove of lasting, loving worth.

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Cona Adams December 11, 2014 at 8:26 AM Another seven for me, Paul. A lifelong love is of true lifelong worth. Paul Schneiter December 11, 2014 at 8:19 PM Thank you, Cona. I sincerely value and appreciate your sweet, supportive comments. They help to make my evenings, which is when I typically open up Poetry Soup.