hold

She gifts not wisdom,

The biggest gift of time

She tells no story

Bears no memory

But traveling

Through crinkles of time,

Times of love and

deep despair,

in tightened clasps

And all others,

in fleeting touches

Bruises

Burns

Her hand reaches

And holds mine

Her hand reaches

And holds mine

And gives me

The last of what remains

Of a handed down

A quiet warmth

That helped her,

Helps me,

Brave.