HANDS

When I was five,
I went to call on
my neighbour,
John.
When his mother
answered the door,
my eyes
leaped
with horror
to her
HANDS.
I just about shrieked
when
I noticed
her thin,
shiny skin,
barely concealing
the thick,
dark blue veins,
that gnarled
and demonized
their look.
I thought they
were the
HANDS
of a monster,
and I
wondered
what could have
possibly
made them so.
Yesterday,
I looked down
and screamed
when I saw
that
Father Time
had transplanted
John's mother's
HANDS
onto mine!
And now
I know,
what
made them so.

Sally