Posted by D. James on 30 March 2007
Hand of love hand of pain
Who have yours touched and how
What’s on them?
Dirt, grime, blood, the scent of soap
What do they tell others
Do we know the truths that lie in our hands
(D.James)
This entry was posted on 30 March 2007 at 7:59 am and is filed under art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing. . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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