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| Photo credit: Andrea C. Jenkins |
Her dying hands.
Fingers- frail, trembling, freckled with age spots
Like gnarls of an old oak tree.
The little boy did not see that.
In his soft hands
In his new camera
He captured the vibrant vermillion in grandma's fingers.
Link: Short Story/Poem Contest
2 comments:
oh wow, what a beautiful poem. Thank you so much for the inspiration.
found you through the Anklet Blog Hop.
Thank you. Glad you liked it.
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