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-My Hands
My Hands
My hands are not pretty
Not delicate, not fine.
I don't do my nails,
they don't look devine.
Not tiny and small,
or dainty and sweet.
They're actually porportional...
they match my feet.
No bright polish of red
or big diamond rings.
Nothing adorns them,
no sparkly things.
My hands are not quite
as soft as can be.
They do dishes and gardening
and things that please me.
Piles of laundry they'll fold
and move rocks in the yard.
But they also get lotion
so don't think they're hard!
Don't think they're ugly
they just get the job done.
They're good working hands
and they also have fun.
My little girl loves them
they're so warm... just like toast!
And my hunny still holds them
any time we are close.
My hands are not pretty.
it's my inheritance, you see.
I have my mother's hands
And THAT pleases me.
Kim, I've written this twice now, but I can't let this go without leaving a critique since it touched my heart so much. I'll never forget the day I shoved my arm into my jacket and my own Momma's hand slid out the other end of the sleeve. I remember being so shocked that I had her hands. I don't have model's hands either but I enjoy yardwork, gardening, painting and all the other things that make my life worthwhile and I will gladly settle for Momma's hands. They certainly brought a lot of love to my own life. This is one of your best works.
Jessica