Back Page - August/September 2010
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Poem |
The Hand of Hannah
The traffic is sluggish
The atmosphere tense
Diastolics are elevated
The rush is on
If patience is a virtue
The beltway is a vice
I feel the tailgater’s stare
Portside’s moniker is “honker”
I’m ready to respond and then I hear
“Daddy, hold my hand”
I wrap one arm behind my seat
I feel her slim fingers intertwine with mine
I enjoy her giggle and release my sigh
I rejoice in the power
Hannah’s hand provides
© 2010 by Neil Tift
