her hands

her hands, roped
in blue thick veins,
long fingered, still
with her wedding ring,
another ring
of some sort
that she's always wore
on the other hand.
she stares into
these hands,
folding them over
and over
as if they held some
answer
to anything, or
to everything.
a palm full of memories
or secrets, who's
to know. only
when you call out
her name, does she
look up to say hello.