Posted on April 3, 2015
by Elan Mudrow
These lines in my Hands, Some say they can read them. Stories like hills speak through them A Dirt Embeds itself in my palms Deep inside the lines, I have rinsed with the coldest Water Over my opened Hand As more lines appear,…
Category: PoetryTags: Author, City, Destiny, Fortune Telling, Hands, Life, Love, Luck, Music, Nature, Palm Reading, Palmistry, Poem, Poetry, Talent, Writing
Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
Join 33,952 other followers