My Mother's Hands

a reflection

My Mother's Hands

I haven't felt my mother's hands for almost 18 years, but here is what I remember...

perfectly manicured...

bony, but tender...

clean, & hard-working...

always reaching to give love...

putting on John Denver & Beach boys records...

grabbing our little hands, gently, firmly,

to dance, to comfort, to keep from falling...

they were mother's hands.

I can't remember for the life of me what they look like in my mind,

and my skin doesn't remember how they feel.

But my memories do.

RIP mama - Aug 25th 2002

Happy (now, belated) Mother's Day to all the beautiful, caring moms out there.

surreal poetry
Becoming Babs
Becoming Babs
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