Healing Hand

Each step was faltering.
She did not know how she could continue;
So alone.
The loneliness a punch to the gut
Each time she recalled it.
She recalled it with each step.
As she walked
Her frame bowed and sagged,
The wind blown from her sails.

A small hand sought hers
And held her fingers tight,
Accompanying her death march
With a sprightly skip.
The change was almost imperceptible,
But with the next step,
She walked just a little taller.

This entry was posted in Death, Emotions, Family, Life Lessons, Love, Relationships and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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