Sunday, June 6, 2010

Sign Language (Happy Birthday, Mom)

by Me

You used to hold my hands.
You said mine were so soft,
that they hadn't done the work
your hands had.

I looked at your hands.
They were rough and red.
The nails irregular.
Your hands told their own story.

This is what I remember about your hands.
I remember their touch.
They caressed, soothed and nurtured.
They held me when I was sick.
Your nails traced circles on my back.

Your hands did a multitude of things,
a multitude of loving things.
My hands will never be rough
or my nails uneven like yours.
My hands tell their own story.

I hold my daughter's hands
and tell her how soft they are.
Will she remember my hands?

Written 20 years ago for Mother's Day
I love you Mom


Charles said...

How beautiful! Her gift is your gift!

Pat said...

Just beautiful:)

ms. muse said...

Thanks so much.