Steadily, you guide me.
With openings and clasps,
Like a masked bandit, you turn & twist counterclockwise.
Loops, you create.
Loads you transport.
In soft light and dark hours, you heal away tears trickling.
Your own and others.
You hold close hurt hearts and broken things.
You high five.
You weave in and amongst tiny fingers ten.
Through mountains of fabric, you create.
1 dimensional turned 3.
Placed pins pulled & put back.
Griplock to the iron's hand.
You are my right.
And, so often, I neglect you.
I see your tale tell signs of the times.
The signs of her in me are becoming so clear.
The light lines traced like cracks are her steps before me.
The twisted knuckles remind me so.
One solid band adorns you.
Almost 10 years it has.
Dinged and scratched, it still finds its way.
A R O U N D
It is only fair that I give you more.
Of who I am on the inside.
Of what I hope to be to others on the out.
My left hand.