Friday, June 6, 2014


Five minutes on one prompt. We silence the critic and the audience, we make peace with our mistakes and our word tense that goes in and out when we type fast. We don’t overthink or edit or make a fuss. We just believe words spilled are worth something even if they come out like madness. Join us? - See more at: 
Todays Prompt:
Go. . .

Hands . . .
Uncensored tenderness in every touch . . .
It's my world.  It's what I see.  What I touch.  What I feel not only through touch but in my soul.

To look down as this tiny creature holds my finger.  Their sweetness.  It turns my world into tenderness. 

I loose count how many hands I hold.  There's the wandering
3 year old.  There's the 2 year old.  And then theirs the babies.

And these old hands.  That reach out to grab a toddler as it tumbles.
A baby that rolls into unsafe territory. 

These old hands that get so dry in the winter from the constant washing.
They are made young.  It's good.  It's sweetness. 
Linking with Lisa Jo.  Click Here  
                                   Happy Trails
     tender moment...



Milli said...

There is truly something magical about babies, and the hands that raise them.

be blessed,

Ida said...

Super sweet post. You could feel the love.

Denise said...

Wonderful writing.