She remembers the first time his hand closed
around her fingers, the smooth skin of youth
and a slight dampness like when he proposed.
He loved her fragrant hand lotion, in truth,
and he would inhale the scent off his hands
hours later.  Years pass and dry wrinkles form
as the grip tightens through all life’s demands,
either lifting or pulling through each storm.
The rheumatism challenges their hold
of each other in the hospital bed,
and just before the thin skin goes cold,
familiar touch takes care of the unsaid.
For a time they are forced to relinquish,
but love’s caress will never extinguish.


Nicholas Froumis practices optometry in the Bay Area. His writing has appeared in Gravel, Right Hand Pointing, Dime Show Review, Snapdragon: A Journal of Art & Healing,Torrid Literature Journal, WestWard Quarterly, Ground Fresh Thursday, Blood and Thunder, Balloons Lit Journal, and The Society of Classical Poets Journal.  Recently, he was nominated for the Pushcart Prize.  He lives in San Jose, CA with his wife, novelist Stacy Froumis, and their daughter.

Related Post

‘Heritage as Hope’ and Other Poetry by Phillip W... Heritage as Hope I saw the cricket scene in evening light, In Windsor light with calm men moving through The evening air and dressed in cricket whi...

One Response

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.