I look at that face, frozen in time. How I miss that face. The one with the plump smooth cheeks. The lips curved up. The eyes so innocent and pure. The happiness in the simple things. The pleasure from nature's gifts. Just enjoying the art of living.
Sometimes I find it hard to believe he was me.
I look at my hands, scarred and worked through much toils. My skin is rough now, toughened and weathered. My eyes have seen sorrows. They still sparkle but in watery tears of having seen the troubles of the world.
I look at that face, frozen in time. How I miss that face. It once was mine.
Thanks for the comment! I like this piece -- I think we all think the same thing at some point in our lives.
ReplyDeleteGreat stylistic point, bringing the end back to the beginning. *smile* I'll follow this blog, too. Thanks for pointing it out!