My hands hold galaxies.
Stars stretch between crooked fingers,
the Milky Way rests
in the palm of my hand.
If you look closely at my pinky,
you can see
numerous constellations
painted very carefully.
The North Star sits perched
on the tip of my index finger,
to point me in the
correct way.
Numerous possibilities
all in a few lines
upon calloused skin.
YOU ARE READING
Bits and Pieces.
PoetryDear reader, this won't necessarily be a story, rather my poems and thoughts. If you are brave enough to venture into my mind and my work, I will welcome you with open arms. Thank you. Sincerely, a.f.
