"HANDS OF TIME"

I sit quietly,
looking into the blue eyes I've seen all my life.

I feel closer somehow,
unsure of the reason.

I fight off the analytical part of my being
just long enough to allow this moment to be.

Not asking for a purpose,
nor waiting for a path to uncover...
leaving only a direction.

The roughness in his voice, that usually stands so defiantly;
briefly disappears,
permitting the softness to seep out in a hummed lullaby.

I see his face relax,
no longer does it hold the ridged sharpness cut from stone.

Finally,
I see the humanness that so often is hidden in his own insecurities.

His hands,
searching for something to grasp, only magnify his uncertainty.

I see they've aged, as did he.

My fear of him disappears,
acceptance and love take its place.

My understanding prevailed,
we become equal, individual, understood.

Copyright © 2000 A. Jones

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