Poet Of The River Poems

As hours tick by and time passes
I find myself mindlessly fumbling through my phone.I almost see your reflection in my glasses
And turn, but you are not there, I am alone, standing still, not going anywhere.
I'm confused, a fog spreading through my mind. Looking down to my calloused hands I think back to what I used to have. And suddenly realize that empty hands, are the best hands. Always open and never closed to anyone. I remove my glasses from my face and pull my dusty shirt forward. Cleaning the delicate pieces I rely so strongly on and begin to think.
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