The other night whilst reading I noticed
As the shadows grew deeper and darker
With the heat of the day growing so cold
With just that one spotlight sharply burning
Casting around the bedroom a cruel eye
In certain light my hands don’t half look old
The veins stand up like the Appalachians
I’ve textured creases which no longer fade
I’m not exactly rugged truth be told
It’s callous but they have become calloused
Not a hard life but they’ve worked every day
In certain light these hands do now look old
My fingers they are somewhat spindly
Lean and nimble – it’s my artistic ways
I’ve an ink mark - a pen I couldn’t hold
Last week I was bitten by an insect
Now I’m constantly grazing my knuckles
In certain light my hands now look so old
Most of the time nobody would notice
If light’s merciful I think I’m still fine
Get away with it – if I am so bold
Though I will have these little misfortunes
My own talons sometimes do hack at me
So in certain light these hands now look old
Some say it’s the first sign that you’re aging
Getting gnarly in your extremities
Life’s hand suggesting that it’s time to fold
Not believing it could happen to me
I want to close my eyes to this harsh truth
Yet in certain light my hands do look old
Martin A W Holmes, June 2017
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