Poem 2 Updated

Every Tuesday evening

As the clouds and colors combined

We would play our game

The rules

Only you and I knew

One hand on top of the other

Together. Tight.

Your’s adorned in wrinkles

Marked by years of pain

Mine small and tender

Marked with colored ink

Yours like sand paper

Rubbing against the grain

Mine smooth and silky

Decorated with colors of the rainbow (updated 10/12)

Never I the victor,

With your hands pressed down

And mine struggling to break free

All the while you laughed;

Eichvant lozin gein

Eichvant lozin gein*

Another Tuesday evening

The clouds and colors combined

And this time

I raise mine

Now it matches yours;

Stained with lines that wont rub off

My hand has reached the top

And I lift it to wave goodbye (Updated 10/12)

*Yiddish for “I won’t let go”