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
Copyright © Valerie Bellefleur | Year Posted 2009
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