These Hands...

These hands held my mother, held me, and held my children.

These hands wiped away many tears and bandaged several knees.

These hands played countless games but never seemed to win when they played against me.

These hands were never to full or busy to hold a book and read to me.

These hands always patted my knee.

These hands always slapped his knee when he laughed.

These hands were as soft as silk even after the life they lived.



These hands are the hands I wish I could hold today...

If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could walk forever in my garden. ~Attributed to Claudia Ghandi ...