Skin

Skin,
made by mother
planted by father.
Dots mark sun’s touch
wrinkles, time’s course.
Veins traverse terrains of scars, spots, blurs, and cuts.
I thank you for the moments we touched and were touched
by other skin,
by spring breezes and sun rays.
As you wrinkle, weather, speckle,
I’ll don you dignified.
Born together.
Run together.
End together.
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