Lines

Lines are not meant to be hidden.
Nature's will of wisdom, the inner truth of a soul

Beautifully unbalanced, curved, straight and narrow,
The grace of a face, with the strength of a sparrow

Lines where a mouth smiles, or sits outside the eyes
where the crow's feet rest, lines on the neck
where they seamlessly intersect
Lines on the hands, a path wanders free
I wonder what does my palm read?

Vertical lines on the nails revealing years of life lived
Like rings on a tree
I reckon, I must embrace them
These lines are me.