Remembering the Life of My Mother.
Hands that once held infants
With loving tenderness and care,
Looks to them now with their grown-up hands
For the love and assistance they might share.
And the hands that held those children,
Gently rocking as they slept,
Are also the ones who held their hands
As they took each cautious step.
Hands that bandaged cuts and scratches,
Then offered healing with a kiss,
Now reach out for solace and comfort,
For the touch they sorely miss.
Hands that tied their shoestrings,
Then patiently teaching the child that task,
Now needs help with tying their own shoes,
But often hesitant to ask.
Hands once reverently folded in prayer,
Interceding for a loved one’s need,
Are now open to receive the love
From another’s compassionate deed.
