My hands stay still

I am getting this out of the way.

I whine about my hands.

So,

 I choose to move along.

Quietly,

 I try to find words,

   some reaching to your heart.

Never knowing,

  trying to feel.

Drifting.

Pain flowing around,

 caustic touches.

Silent smile,

 giving support.

Healing touch,

 unnoticed 

The hands stay still.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

The poem made me want to ask questions. Pain is hell. I have bad knees and bad back. Use both daily. I got use the pain. I hope you are doing well my friend. Have fun and be safe.
Coyote

[Jon Roggie]

I just like to complain. Part of the years passing. When I lose my sense of humor is when I will worry!

[Coyote Poetry]

You are right my friend. I'm 59 years old. I need three more years and I believe I can survive with work. I pray and hope. I can make it.

[Jon Roggie]

51 in January. You can make it. You have the will. Plus you have the rest of us wishing you along.

[barleygirl]

This reminds me of the way we tend to stop ourselves from reaching out to a friend, imagining rejection or whatever stops us . . . trying to convey the invitation with a smile, but going unseen. I know this feeling very well & you've painted it in a minimalistic way (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Jon Roggie]

Honestly, my hands are hurting. Driving to Tulare didn't help. Not to mention chopping up some pico de gallo!

[barleygirl]

Sorry to hear that the pain is very real for you! I have fibromyalgia (constant all-over pain) so I feel you! *ouch!*

[Jon Roggie]

Just another day.

[apennylate]

Still, I feel, but will I still feel this way when the quiet goes away... I move from my own hands way, brilliant, mate... A smooth cadence is felt on this... Caustic rain... Quietly penned...

[Jon Roggie]

I try to play. Cheers!