Empty Hands--By Linda Hurdwell--England

Empty Hands

And so the joyous tide of life
Is shrivelling ‘neath the sun
Its absurd complexity
Has almost had its fun.

The subtle sunset covers up
The quickening hands of time
And like a grotesque drama
Acts out a silent mime.

The sea of breath ebbs away
To a salty shore
Confused and fearful of the day
But yearns to know much more.

Why has this tide sped on by?
Where is this promised land?
My soul it leaps toward the sky
And slips from both my hands.

Linda Hurdwell has been a widow for 5 years.  She has two adult sons. Living in the English countryside, she takes her dog, Bessie, for a daily walks and that's where many of her poems and stories are born.  She has always loved writing and has a few short stories published.  Although now a pensioner,  she enjoys working with adults with learning disabilities and running a mencap social club once a week.  Her hobbies are writing, tap dancing, and going to the theatre or cinema with my friends.