“ The Hand ” ~ that feeds ~

As I observe

The hand

That feeds,

Wants serve

The life I live

With verve,

Fashioned so

As fate did give,

To find contrive

Thru every curve

Meant stay alive,

Be worth invest

In destined strides,

Hence to survive

The waning signs

We visualize,

Protuberant veins

Neath thinning skin

Covers aging within,

Telling of life ephemeral

The while bemoaning

Mind means decline,

This hand will feed me still!

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“ Laughter ” ~ feeds the soul ~

I want to laugh

In potions ample

That it should last,

To encourage  

Thusly bold,

Fellow beings

Who’ve to learn

Be laughter

Feeds the soul,

And lessens thus

The morose pique

Of anxious matters,

Inciting as a must

The constant lifeline,

Of enduring laughter!