My Mother's hands have done
Many things over the years,
She would hold me close when I got hurt
And wipe away my tears.
Often I have seen her hands crack and bleed
When hanging laundry out in the cold,
Much pain it must have caused her
But if it did, she never told.
Her hands look so weather beaten
Bearing scars from the past,
But when I look into her face
I see beauty that will always last.
Often when I was sick as a child
My little hand she would hold,
Staying up with me through the night
Not resting until I was alright.
I am now a grown woman
With a family of my own,
My mother now elderly
Lives with us at home.
She wants or needs for nothing
For I have given her the best
Finally those loving hands
Can get their deserving rest.
By: Miriam Gilbert
