My Hands Will See His Soul
Itried to put ihis on the bottom of my last blog but the writing screen wouldn't let me preview it. My Hand Will Feel His Soul As each day passes I watch him die. Slowly, surely with no reprieve. It is sundown that brings the worst of times; For darkness seems so final. A well worn pattern plays out each night; Watching, waiting, knowing death will come; Announced or unannounced. My hands lightly touching, to feel his warmth, And the gentle rise of his chest. Memorizing in the darkness his field... Sign in to see full entry.