Hands

She holds the big metal key

In her tiny pale hands

I hold a leaf 

We have been praying 

For an adventure

Turning the beads between

Finger and thumb 

Will we ever get old

She asks

We already are 

I reply

When I am very old

Will you hold my hand

Of course Little Cricket

I will cherish every wrinkle 

Like the innards of a tree stump

She opens a door with the key

Places it on a waiting table

We are outdoors now

Holding a pigeon

Make it fly

She hoots and I let it go 

As I clap my hands

Light appears

It really is something

This Wonderland 

We trip 

Skip

Fall through it together

Hand in hand. 

Hands

We hold the butterfly

In our hands

It shines

Like the sun 

Our fingertips are wrinkled

Too many days

Spent dying 

There are always doors

Floors to fall through

We could choose a key

Turn the lock

Let time slip

Through our fingers

Like sand

Our skin is as tough

As elephant hide

We stroke it 

In the light 

Wash away the bad dreams

And the powder 

Maybe one day 

We will fly

Spread our wings

Soar into the clouds

There is only one day

Left

To be

We wring our hands

And cry.