These verses are handprints

These verses are handprints 

They are not restricted 

The format of fingers

Are beyond descriptive 

The journey through windows

Universal blackness

We’re only limited

By our sense of lackness

In a competition

In a competition 

Nine children are racing

Born on a fast track where

Speed outperforms pacing

On the course then bleachers

Forfeited finish line

Not once awarded proud

Private victory mine

Still holding a ribbon (Foundling Hospital Textile Tokens)

Still holding a ribbon

Days at first and then years

I cannot collect you

Textile token and tears

A bright pink nearly white

A bow on my finger

Each of us has two rooms

Of a heart in linger

Complete excavation

Complete excavation 

The mining tools set down

All the stones discovered 

Nothing more to be found

A hole not worth digging

The overburden gone

No pits left to follow

Conserve the needed brawn

So many left hand turns

So many left hand turns

Acceptance and forgive

Regrets for not trying

Or words lost in the sieve

Opportunities gone

Choices poorly chosen

The efforts to keep peace

By remaining frozen

Wade with me the waves are

Wade with me the waves are

Gentle time caressing 

Horizon full of Hope

Hourglass sand addressing 

The sun and moon at work

Ships floating without sound

There for each other our

Overboard cargo found

Dreams kept in yesterdays

Dreams kept in yesterdays 

Clothes now out of fashion

Pristine and perfection

Slightly reduced passion

Hopes continue to shine

Light on in the kitchen

Again time to retire

Tomorrow will pitch in