Promising hands don’t lie

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Promising hands don’t lie.
Do they ever?
The rough exposure to his firm fist
made the dandelions sing with pride.
Bees hummed a saga for sure.
My serious blue eyes weren’t terrified then.
He promised not to ever leave me alone.
Few homesick tears rolled down my large, mournful eyes.
Standing long way back,
I noticed, he being the strongest man ever
kept his promise alive even when I died.
Frangraced white lilies shed tears on my dusty grave
that looked aged as unbearably tragic time melted .
A young kiss on old lifeless rock travelled back the time twice,
when he promised not to ever leave me alone,
holding my hands tight.
The pure gentle smell of rain refused to lie.
The moist imprint dissolved in white water ;
the latter apologized .
Transparent like the honesty and supreme love of the old man, my amort soul smiled at the skies.
Climbing his elderly shrunken body, I kissed his kindly wrinkled face.
He loved that, he still likes.
Promising hands don’t lie.
Do they ever?

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