Worn Hands
By: BBF
Dear Jim,
I can still remember when your hands lifted me up.
Filling my being like a good cooked sup'.
Even back to when needles traced thread along my edges.
I would watch you when you placed me on the shelf ledges,
Your work at your desk and you would run your worn hands through your hair.
I'd smile as you'd sigh and look at me with such love and care.
You'd lift me up again and we'd talk one to another.
When all other workers left, we always had each other.
I didn't mind all the travel, even when you put me in your suitcase.
Anywhere that was near you, why, that was my place.
I know you hated being away from your family,
But no matter how lonely you were, you always had me.
And I'll always have, even when I'm standing at your resting place,
I'll always remember your careworn face.
From your dear friend,
Kermit
From Kermit's point of view. I'm working on a one shot of Jim's last days, if any of you have some facts or things you wish in it, send me a message! Oh, and please review.