Devotion (a poem)


The veins of his hands stood
Starkly against the pale
Skin of her cheek
He brushed her platinum hair
Gently, smoothing each strand
With love and rapt attention.

She never noticed how his
Hands shook, the minor palsy
He couldn’t control, couldn’t stop
But neither of them cared.

His touch was her salvation
Her joy was his reason for being.
The nursing home staff whispered
How cute they were after 52 years.

© Copyright 2006 d. tongco


About Diann Writes

Diann L. Tongco enjoys sketching, crafts and photography as well as writing poetry and novels. To stay out of trouble, she writes, shows curly-coated retrievers, grows fragrant roses, drinks good of wine with friends, and spends time with her grandchildren. She lives on Washington's Puget Sound with her boyfriend Nick and their dog Ozzy.
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2 Responses to Devotion (a poem)

  1. Dale Eckhardt says:

    Lovely poem. My dad died last year after 65 years of marriage to my mom. They shared the same bed in the nursing home. He pushed her wheel chair to meals. He held her hand while they watched TV together or just sat side by side. The nursing home staff let them have baths at the same time and voted them Valentine sweethearts. There really are marriages where true love and devotion lasts forever.

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