On Amyloid Protein

I watch your eyes tracing my face.

Furrowed brows suggest blurred image.

Slow, slow, not in haste—

Mine is a forgotten visage,

Erased like tales of the village,

You fondly shared, from where you came.

I watch your eyes tracing my face,

And pray you will recall my name.

Your calloused hands will think of mine:

"We have held these some other place!"

The embers of your past will flame—

And I will hear and help to heal,

Waiting for signal or for sign.

Slow, slow, with hands to feel—

As I carry onward, blind,

Hoping that which I seek, I find.

Competing interests

None declared.

Provenance and peer review

Not commissioned; internally peer reviewed.

from # All Medicine by Alexandros G. Sfakianakis via Alexandros G.Sfakianakis on Inoreader http://ift.tt/2tpIs6v
via IFTTT