With gentle hands
and acts of quiet sacrifice,
the virtue of taking care resides.
An overflowing phrase.
It's not a gift,
but given freely—
even if it means
depletion is at hand's grasp.
Part of love, they say.
What happens when
the gentle hands
become weary and tired?
Who now
will fulfill
the cycle of Taking Care?
YOU ARE READING
I'm Fragile Enough
PoetryThese words are a collection of moments in time, tied together by the simple and profound fragility of life. Thank you for reading.
