Like Fingers

Those fingers are not like my family’s fingers.
And it’s okay, we even voice different,
never mind the language
Small trivial
air-weight vessels.
But it’s interesting, watching…
Subjectively perceiving a blended image
The most real of dreams
Ones not fast forgotten
And how this affects everything:
It’s in the milk
it’s in the butter,
now
we eat it with strawberries.
For ever,
now. It is forever-now.
My eyes,
can be seen
watching, as with fallible grace,
the hand holds the glimmering silver spoon.
Sunshine shading and illuminating the creases of the skin.
The beauty of all of this balanced imperfection
and how it all breathes within itself.