His Hands

On By Michele LeeIn Dreams, Humor, love, Poetic Prose, Verse
His hands sparked a fire that changed the horizon
feet that once stumbled in the darkness
made swift and spirited by the glow
cast from red hot sparks

His hands built ovens that pumped air and purified ore
a lone artist on the edge of civilization
he transformed blazing metal
into purposeful and beautiful

His hands piloted a ship designed to push boundaries
stirring inspiration, excitement, and imagination
touching the surface and holding the truth
of a destination others can only dream

His hands have welded thousands of bridges
careful attention to a strong foundation
skillfully laying stones or filling holes
expanding worlds for those
wanting to roam

His hands
        the creator of fire
           the shaper of iron
              the lunar holder
                 the bridge builder

are gentle too
Delicately, a buttoned blouse
he attempts to undo
gently… gently… GENTLY
Oh, to hell with this!
His hands are no match
for tiny buttons and clasps

the scene quickly deflating

His hands
        he throws up (in the air)
His hands
        know how to tear

Thank you for visiting and reading! Be well. 💗 Michele

A special thank you to Juan with Gobblers Masticadores (Spain) for publishing my piece, “Sirious Crush (follow-up)“

© 2022 Michele Lee Sefton

Photo 1: by zlikovec Photo 2: by Alones

60 thoughts on “His Hands”

    1. Excellent! This poem did motivate me to ponder a few historical settings and scenarios. Interesting perspective about the “aging adventurer’s struggle.” I had not considered that, but that is the gift of poetry – poets write and readers experience and interpret. 😊 Thank you, Rebecca.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

    1. Just noticed the reply I sent you did not go through. 😕 Take two. 🎬 This poem took me on an interesting journey; I loved every minute of it! 🥰 Thank you, Cindy. Apologies for the delayed response. Glitchy system. 😞

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

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