Age Poem by jonathan marshall

Age



I look at my worn, grubby and red hands
I wash them daily
oh y
I work with these hands
clean with these hands
oh y
wear n tear, year n year I use these hands
pain
heat
clip
I use you everyday
we both think the same n write the same
I don't take you for granted
I look after you
day in day out
I owe you a lot my fellow hands ile raise a glass on your behalf

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