The Hand Poem by Vera Sidhwa
The Hand
Her hand worked day in and day out,
Begging on the streets of her city.
She built castles in the sky,
But from Heaven, no reply.
She asked for pennies from Heaven.
She said, she was the best,
To receive Heaven's bounty,
So she rest.
This hand knew no rest.
It worked nonstop.
It received nothing.
It stayed empty.
Monday, February 16, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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5/21/2024 9:41:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
