Mother’s Hands

I used to stare at my mom’s hands

wishing my fingers were so long

that i could see the tendons dancing beneath

veins visible and soft

I stare at my own hands now

they look like her’s

and mine

they have brushed off dirt

rubbed love into shoulders

found countless lost things

fed hope and knowledge

i have my own mother’s hands

today

they long to be held

to caress

dance the tattoo of love

for a family of my own

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