November 3, 2010

The Palm Reader

"She looked at my hands like records, records to be played upon the needle of her eye"

There once was a girl who walked into my hands

who found her place and started foreseeing plans

who read the lines that were deep and all around

as creases in my hands spoke to her like sound

She saw one line and thought it was a path

she read it so deep she started doing math

and then one lifetime was simply not enough

to explain all the gems so thick in this rough

From there she began looking for more signs

believing more and got entangled in vines

of all the lines that were written in my hand

by something greater than either could understand

At this point, simply not knowing what to do

when all roads seemed to lead to nothing new

Gripped in a spin, she was desperate for calm

so she stopped it all and stopped believing in palms

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