Lines of Hands

By Jennifer Herbert

The dreams within the blue moon are real,

A spoonful of the truth, the muse and the appeal.

Once risen, they take possession of the tides,

And glisten along summer setting shorelines.

Night skies and tragedies, a reality that lies in lines of hands,

An understanding that time, aligns with fates demands.

Romance; a slow dance of red strands and pain,

A chain of sand, pouring through, like tattered rain.

It scatters in ways; it creates unattainable designs,

And sometimes we hold on to those unforgettable minds.

Our scarlet twine is truly unbreakable, but unstable in this life;

Broken hearted and denied, because our timelines just don’t rhyme.

Copyright© 2020 Jennifer Herbert

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