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U3A Writing: The Reaping

…You took my hand, palm uppermost,
And gently brushed it with your lips and tears…

Vera Sanderson’s wonderful poem captures the essence of true love.

I’ll sing no sad songs for all our yesterdays.
The years we yelled away like wild wolves
Baying anger at the moon.
Ah! Had the fiddler played a different tune.
A tumultuous beginning does not beget a peaceful end.
A leopard cannot change its spots, my friend.
Unkind? Were we? And to what degree?
And what of that?
Life is just a game of tit for tat – and yet…
There was a day when all our world stood still.
Blind-bandaged, bewildered, bedraggled, ill,
I stumbled through a maze of concrete stairs
To find you waiting there.
You took my hand, palm uppermost,
And gently brushed it with your lips and tears –
For all the world to see.
“Lady mine, no need for all your fears.
I will be your eyes,” you whispered tenderly.

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