Palm Reader Palm reader, look at my hands hands,
Now what can you tell me of the life they have had?
How do you know how many times they’ve tried,
To wipe away tears that the lonely have cried,
How many times have they spread out to catch,
Those who have stumbled on life’s winding path,
Could you really know without any doubt,
When they have waved, to greet a friends shout,
When they’ve deftly repaired the souls of the broken,
When they’ve done actions that replaced words unspoken,
Could you tell by the lines, in the crease of my wrist,
How many times they have clenched a strong fist,
How would you know when they’ve pounded in madness?
Or held those who crumpled, in the dark face of sadness,
Do the bends in my knuckles seem to disclose,
The times I shook hands with those I don’t know?
The moments I high-fived a best friend for life,
The time that I squeezed my mom’s hand in the night?
How many times will they grab, will they give,
Now tell me Palm Reader,
How will they live?