The Shaking Hands

June 20, 2008
Lolly who coughs in the cold
Whose hands shake with age when her mother’s do not
With a body as frail as a weathered and worn book
But faith strong as a braided rope
Never stops playing her piano
She plays for her God that she loves
Her lethargic fingers never losing the tempo

Lolly who loves her God so
Who goes to church and misses the doctor
Who never worries about what will happen
But always looks to the future, bright future
Oh to look through her eyes
She always smiles
Always laughs
Always hugs
Always loves

Always coughs

Lolly who sits in front of the piano
Who sits in the pew at the front of the church
And sings all the songs
But doesn’t have the breath left to stand
Can no longer come to Colorado
Can’t breathe in our thin air
So she stays where her thick air can cover her sickness
She would never want us to worry

Lolly whose lungs can no longer hold the air
The precious life of the body
Always has faith, always relies on her spirit
Never wonders why she has become so sick
Never blames it on her God,
Never lets her spirit get worse

But never gets better.

The spirit side of her lives on,
But here I stand all shaking because her shaking hands are gone.

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