She read
my closed eyelids

with the slightest
of touches

sculpts
my open lips

with the soft tip
of a little finger

an open palm
cupping my cheekbone

as if it were precious
porcelain

a wrist
hold back

a flow of hair

curls escaping
through her finger.

She arranges
& re-arranges

my smile

creates its
laughter

her fingerprints
all over

whorl upon whorl
me

a thumbprint
left over like a potter

on an eyebrow

touch upon touch
upon touch

butterflies
and yet more
butterflies

my granny
in her blindness

reading me
with her fingers

bringing me
into being

with a wave of her
hand.' ' ' ' '

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/all-seeing-eye-for-scarlet/