Friday, June 26, 2015

MISTAKEN IDENTITY







MISTAKEN IDENTITY

The hand, that reaches out to a shoulder;
A shoulder, sparse of flesh and muscle now.
A shoulder, that pulled a plough once;
A shoulder, that nestled a spewing babe.
A shoulder, that cradled a new born lamb;
A shoulder, that bronzed with every turn of hay.
A shoulder, that held up a cart to fix a wheel.
A shoulder, soaked by family's tears;.
A shoulder, covered now in papery brown.
The hand, that reaches out....
Let it see the MAN.









Maureen Walsh  -  June 2015



Ciao for now!

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