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The Elderly Gentlewoman
Old hands. Old hands,
pick up her tea cup
that rests on the piano.
Time was, her future stretched further ahead,
now it sits smiling at the foot of her bed.
Old hands. Old hands,
spread apricot jam
over biscuits and toast.
Time was, the sunny days frolicked and played,
now they loll kindly in a swing in the shade.
How the years pass as her life is unfurled,
her fingerprints gracing the soul of the world.
Old hands. Old hands.
Style / type:
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity):
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage:
Workshop:
Content level:
Not Explicit Content
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Comments
Rula
Thu, 2024-06-06 13:06
Dear sweet Lavender
Let me start to say welcome back with those little gems.
Reading you I always win a word or two.
Frolicked seems to be the word of the day, and a poetic one. I shall make sure I'm going to use it soon.
And the poem, oh, I hate to say I think one day sooner or later I will relate. Might not be very soon, but this seems inevitable.
Thank you for sharing dear
❤❤❤❤❤❤
Please follow me on Instagram https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Lavender
Fri, 2024-06-07 12:16
Hello, Rula!
Hope you are well!
I'm not quite there, either, but getting close. Hands, and who they have touched through time, are so revealing and interesting. For some reason, a piano teacher came to mind when writing this.
Thank you for reading and commenting, Dear Friend!
Lx
Geezer
Thu, 2024-06-06 13:13
Funny...
how we see our hands every day, but we never notice [unless they are hurt, have newly polished nails, etc.] the changes in them. Maybe I became more aware of hands and how they look, when I started working with the elderly, years ago. I saw
hands that have milked cows, driven trucks and tractors, and a myriad of other jobs. Young hands rarely hold any interest for me; I guess maybe, they haven't yet "graced the soul of the world." There are occasions when a real youngster, [months or a few years old, have intrigued me, and they always seem to be reaching out to me, connecting. Hmmm, but I digress. You have written another succinct and plain-to-view poem for me to ponder. I especially like the lines: "Time was when her future stretched further ahead, now, it sits smiling at the foot of her bed. Well done, ~ Geez.
.
There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.
Lavender
Fri, 2024-06-07 12:25
Hello, Geezer,
I know what you mean about studying hands. As I get older, I find myself wondering what people have been through and what they've seen in their lifetime by the look of their hands. (Their weathered faces, too.) I also understand about baby's hands... so smooth with a full life ahead!
Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts with this one!
Lx
Leslie
Sat, 2024-06-08 08:55
L
This is absolutely haunting how the years waft us along and before you know it our hair is gray, our skin wrinkled and we sit on a porch swing wondering what comes next in the not so distant future, however if I am right the future holds much more to be desired than we ever experienced here, with those whom we know, loved and were familiar with! Why would it be any different!
All of God's children singing, holding hands in the rain!
Lavender
Sat, 2024-06-08 19:10
Hello, Leslie,
What wonderful thoughts you've shared! Thank you for reading!
L