Let me start to say welcome back with those little gems.
Reading you I always win a word or two.
Frolicked seems to be the word of the day, and a poetic one. I shall make sure I'm going to use it soon.
And the poem, oh, I hate to say I think one day sooner or later I will relate. Might not be very soon, but this seems inevitable.
Thank you for sharing dear

how we see our hands every day, but we never notice [unless they are hurt, have newly polished nails, etc.] the changes in them. Maybe I became more aware of hands and how they look, when I started working with the elderly, years ago. I saw
hands that have milked cows, driven trucks and tractors, and a myriad of other jobs. Young hands rarely hold any interest for me; I guess maybe, they haven't yet "graced the soul of the world." There are occasions when a real youngster, [months or a few years old, have intrigued me, and they always seem to be reaching out to me, connecting. Hmmm, but I digress. You have written another succinct and plain-to-view poem for me to ponder. I especially like the lines: "Time was when her future stretched further ahead, now, it sits smiling at the foot of her bed. Well done, ~ Geez.
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This is absolutely haunting how the years waft us along and before you know it our hair is gray, our skin wrinkled and we sit on a porch swing wondering what comes next in the not so distant future, however if I am right the future holds much more to be desired than we ever experienced here, with those whom we know, loved and were familiar with! Why would it be any different!