Hands

March 5, 2010
The woman's hands,
soft as a rose petal, so
gentle it seemed like a bird
gliding through an open sky.
Gently, she was handling
the soft flowers as if it
were a baby.
Her precious Garden of Eden was
her most valuble treasure.
The flowers glowing with happiness let themselves be handled.
I go up to the woman and ask her,"Why do you do this?"
With her hands still touching the soil she answers, "Peace."





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