Hand's Belonging to Someone Old

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The wrinkles, formed deep into their palm ran across there bodies like narrow rivers, which instead of water, carried years of wisdom. His large hands rub against each other and feel the callous bumps of the appendages which have held his children after their birth, pushed the back of a swing for his young daughter, felt the cold metal of his son’s first car, his daughter’s elbow linked in his for her wedding, and the rough gravestone which now reads his wife’s name.





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