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Hard Worn Hands

by Alan Mahood

My lover has hard, worn hands
That speak of years working the soil
Washing and cleaning and carrying.
But her smile shines like the moon
Carrying water,
Her cheek is soft as the skin of a
Newly ripened peach,and her laughter
Tickles my heart.
Her soft fragrance is like the scent
Of Jasmine drifting on the night breeze
In the quiet of the desert night.
Her eyes are pools of onyx that gleam and
Reflect the light of a thousand stars.
My soul soars into the heavens when
She is near.
How I long to feel the caress of those
Hard worn hands.



Author's Note: 4 A.M. Amman, Jordan

Posted on 10/03/2007
Copyright © 2021 Alan Mahood

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