Her Fingers Trace

Her fingers trace the prayer wheel
which is for sale at a local market,
her thoughts spin around in circles
as the wheels with every prayer,

he loved her, he said, he loved her
resonates in the sound of a temple bell,
young she was , yet years turn so fast,
she no longer wears flowers in her hair.

18 Replies to “Her Fingers Trace”

  1. Another lovely poem! I visited you this morning to congratulate you on being nominated for “The Inspiring Blog Award”. You are very deserving of the award as you write some of the most beautful poetry i have seen! It is so uplifitng in spirit, and leaves such a sense of peace and serentity. May God continue to bless you and your gift that you may continue to touch and lift all of us! Have a blessed morning!

    1. Thank you, Wendell, your generous comment leaves me speechless. Thank you once again. Ciao, Francina

    1. Thank you, David, for your kind comment! Katmandu was indeed on my mind, however I have never been there. Thailand is as far as I went.

      Ciao-Francina

  2. So sad and so well written. I really like the contrast between spinning that prayer wheel, the sad memory, and the absence of any floral ornament in her hair. Very concise tracing of the stages in a woman’s life. Did the former lover become a monk or priest? Hmmm, altar flowers, hmmm.

    1. Thank you, Rose! I found the trail of your thoughts on the poem very interesting. There is always room for the reader’s own imagination in poetry.

      Ciao-Francina

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