Image by Prawny on Pixabay

MY CHILD’S HANDS

~not all innocence is lost with time~

On a chilly evening,

As I warm tingling fingertips

At a garrulous log fire

I see

For the first time,

My child’s hands

Child’s hands

That vainly

But in absolute joy

Play with cobalts and ochres

Viridians, crimson and charcoal

Amongst cobwebs of a still

Hushed basement.

Farida Haque

Multimedia artist, writer, poet. ‘Celebrating other lives, I am a sparrow in the shadow of a rosebush...’ faridahaque@gmail.com

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store