Picking It Up
I feel along the edges
some rough
some smooth;
something is alive there
I can hear a heartbeat.
It is warm in some spots,
in others cool;
I can hear muffled talking
but I can not understand
what is being said.
I touch it once again
and bring it closer to my ear
because I am blind
and need to feel
what I cannot see.
It has a texture which is un-even,
a certain undefinability-
even mystery.
I lay it on the table once again
move away
still trying
to comprehend
this
which is
My Life.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
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