A short tribute to my sweet mother who may not
remember me, but that's okay. She's still a sweet
and smiling person that I call Mom.
I’ll never forget my mother’s hands.
When I was a child, her hands
were young and smooth, and
now worn and blemished, but beautiful .
My mother’s hands were always there.
These hands have held her
babies and wrapped them
These hands tied our shoes,
buttoned our dresses,
held our hands as we crossed
These hands were cool on
our fevered brow during
those childhood illnesses.
These hands picked us up
when we fell.
They soothed the many hurts
These hands have written letters,
dialed the phone,
worked crossword puzzles,
sewn our clothes,
crocheted baby blankets,
Then came the time
these hands held her grandchildren
when they wanted to play.
Through the journey of life,
my parents held tightly to each other’s hand,
letting go, only when separated
once again, and soon the time will come.
And I know I'll always remember my mother's