Follow by Email

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Ghost of a Hand

Sometimes,
in glimpses,
the little red-headed girl,
hand clasped in mine
as I pulled her along,
peeks out
from the woman's façade.
The ghost of a hand,
always reaching for mine,
whispers across
the one that always reached back.
Two lost little girls
against the world,
now learning the dance
of holding on while letting go.

8 comments:

  1. Draws me to a fairytale by the fairytale of this 'red-headed' girl being the poem itself.

    Kudos!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Gave me goosebumps.
    And it's 85 degrees out there.
    Such a description of the generations looking out for each other!

    ReplyDelete
  3. This is very nice. I really love the ending, we must all learn to hold on yet let go.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I loved this piece--as I grow older I often feel closer to the little girl inside!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Lovely and very haunting.

    PhenoMenon, ABCW Team

    ReplyDelete
  6. Cleverly thought-out and rather moving...

    ReplyDelete
  7. we all have to figure on when to hold on and when to let go
    ROG, ABC Wednesday team

    ReplyDelete

Thank you for commenting. I really appreciate you taking the time to read my poems and leave feedback. It is what keeps me going and has me striving to better my craft. So, thank you, thank you, thank you!