Hands Holding Firm
By Thelma T. Reyna
If hands could laugh, ours would've pealed our way
through Rome's catacombs, Spanish Steps, thousand cats
lounging in Coliseum ruins,
and everywhere we roamed on every wheel that
turned—buses, taxis, trains—hands holding firm to
one another, vacationers in love, when we were
young, languoring with afternoon hands circling
warm on weary flesh, sun gilding balconies
outside french doors and marble floors in
alabaster rooms built centuries ago, where
foreign hands speak sentences and poems in
flourishes, and icon cities are for
lovers with palms clasped whenever we strolled
cobblestones, our paths just one, one direction,
together regardless of where.
Source: http://www.goldenfoothillspress.com/
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