I tend to look at and sometimes even study people's hands. Not sure why, but I think you can tell a lot about a person by their hands. Years ago, as my Grandma's birthday approached, I wanted to write something for her that summed up the kind of person that she was: a caretaker, seamstress, cook, hard-worker, selfless and a generous giver. And her hands kept coming to mind. She did so much with her hands. That's where this poem was born out of.
MY GRANDMA'S HANDS
My Grandma’s hands are everywhere,
Touching people all around.
It’s impossible to count them all.
Her work seems to abound.
My Grandma’s hands have healed.
She nursed for 30 years.
Giving aid and comfort,
And easing people’s fears.
My Grandma’s hands made clothing
For all of us to wear.
Mittens, quilts and dresses
Each piece made with tender care.
My Grandma’s hands prepared food:
Delicious dinners, a lovely cake.
Anytime you stopped on by,
A feast for you she’d make.
My Grandma’s hands got dirty
As she made her garden grow.
Vegetables, berries, flowers.
All blooming in a row.
My Grandma’s hands were clean
As she was washing all the time.
Laundry, dishes and so much more
Even yours and mine!
My Grandma’s hands made music.
She played her favorite songs.
Upon her little piano
She may even sing along.
My Grandma’s hands held treasures
Of gold and diamonds too.
They reminded her of the love she shared
With her husband she remained true.
My Grandma’s hands were strong
They carried quite a load.
From children grand and great-
Devotion to them she showed.
My Grandma’s hands were tireless
And dedicated to her job.
Of taking care of people.
She’s our angel sent by God.