Lorraine Ferns Poet Free verse

These Hands

These hands have laboured
               In many a different place
               Where time and space
               Have passed so slow
               Uneventful and never hopeful
               To escape
               The dust and financial decay
               Of paper cuts
               And chapped esteem
               And waking up, to yet another
               Passing
                          lost
                               numbing
                                            wasted
                                                             day.

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Carol Eastman June 9, 2012 at 12:27 PM Facinating write! Loved it!

Anne-Lise Andresen June 8, 2012 at 11:08 AM Lorraine, well written dear poet. - oxox Anne-Lise

Cheryl Glans June 4, 2012 at 2:28 PM Great poem!!! I feel you