I do not recognize the hand that grasps mine…
Strong, but no flesh-cushion smooths its bony contours.
Brown, but bluish conduits of life bulge and writhe,
While newly freckled skin sinks ’round visible cords of thick sinew.
It seems I do not recognize…
That as my Mother before,
And my hands have aged.
Christopha Moreland is a retired Pediatric Occupational Therapist. Her long-standing avocational interests include modern dance, music and the performing arts, as well as adventure sports. Creative writing is a relatively new venture and she is very much enjoying the journey to find her voice.