Your Hand - By James Cecil

Your Hand

I tossed, restless, in the dark, deaf night.
From cool crisp sheets,
my clammy frame drenched our bed.
Your voice cut short the spiral…
“Would you like me to hold your hand”?
I was that who you touched,
I was frantic and you gave me rest.

- Written by: James Cecil

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

just stopping by to say hey


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