Friday, October 16, 2009


When the warmth of invisible hands
Cools upon our skin
When the echo of soft laughter
Drifts down memory’s lane
When words that held and shaped us
Lie in silence now
We begin to see life’s truth
That we have changed somehow

When the glow of inaudible whispers
Silently evaporates
And arms you never touched, yet held you
Close the garden gate
As we sit upon its hallowed wall
A sweet essence remains
For in each life some rain must fall…
And we’ll never be the same

Invisible fingers mold and shape us
With a whispering touch
Silently, obscurely they surround us
Brushing our day with love
And, as they pass in muted shadows
Down a fern-lined memory-lane
In retrospect we recognize
Invisible hands of change

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-Janet Martin-

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