Her Hands

Why do you hate the looks

That I envy?

Squishy veins that bear life to

All your body

Are not ugly, they are a map that therein

Holds the treasure

You say it’s aging, falling apart as you go stiff

Refuse to accept

The genuine compliments that come

From my heart

Is there not a femininity to

Your soft hands

Your tender, yet weathered skin?

You hands were always one of my favorite features

Everyone has them

Though they all are so different

Slim and thick and large and small

I love hands

I love yours most of all, covered in

Sweet, warm lotion that enchants the

Air around you

I hope to have your hands someday

If nothing else, but I hope for your character

Strong-willed sainthood

A beloved daughter of God you are

And there is no one else I would choose, no other than

You, my mother.