Poem By: Bekah Turney

The loving hand bends its fingers

And curls around the hearts’ that let.

Whom wields the hand,

It stalls,

Attracting in the pleasure,

Soon plummets down with past’s regret.

It knows,

It shows,

With eyes that fold and spin

Off of honest pain.

Alas, the tides that call,

Like the ocean, a constant rolling,

Seems a genuine domain-

Of life that rotates,

As all, it flows,

Always a loss of someones’ gain.