Yours
Yours are the hands that raise me up,
that rescue me from dark depression,
that haul me from life’s whirlpool,
that clench around the jaws that bite,
that save me from the claws that snatch.
Yours are the hands that move the pieces
on the chess board of my days and nights,
that break my breakfast eggs and bread,
that bake my birthday cake and count
the candles that you place and light.
You are the icing on that cake, and yours
is the beauty that strips the scales
from my eyes, then blinds me with light.
rogermoorepoet 
Lovely!
LikeLike
Thanks, Tiffany! A tribute to my beloved in the midst of these very tough times. We have just gone back into the orange (from yellow) and there have been some spikes here recently. Even so, we are really lucky and our shutdowns have worked.
LikeLike
Beautiful Roger A celebration of Clare’s gifts
LikeLike