A Grandmothers hand

Things have been busy. Have you ever noticed how life can become so busy that there doesn’t seem to be time for anything but when you look back you can’t remember what exactly you have been busy with?

I thought I would post a little poem about Grandmothers to make you smile. Its a little sentimental but I wrote it when I was about 14.

A Grandmothers Hand

A grandmother’s hand,
worn and warm.
It tells a story
of loves true form.

Each line and wrinkle,
a silent witness
of a mothers love;
every care and sadness.

Strength and hard work
these lines betray,
of early mornings
and happy days.

This hand that lies,
so close to my own,
so tired and old;
a proof of love shown.

 

 

 

 

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