My Mother's Hands

My Mother's hands I'll always remember,
How they labored for all those years.
Once young and soft and tender,
It brings my eyes to tears.

But years of toil and struggles,
Has taken its toll you see.
For lines and wrinkles as we age,
For sure are going to be.

She has rocked me many nights,
When I refused to sleep.
Or sickness made her walk the floor,
But loving patience she did keep.

I can still remember the sweet caress,
I felt as she held me close,
And soothed my broken heart,
Each time I stumped my toe.

A gentle kiss would make it well,
Or at least that's what I thought,
For all the pain would go away,
As she would hold me close.

Her eyes were understanding,
Soft and tender as her smile.
For her love she had for family,
She'd always go that extra mile.

I have no memories I hold so close,
As those I spent with Mother,
For she deserves the love of family,
A love above all others.

If I could undo some things I've said,
Or things I could have done,
I'd lavish her with gifts galore,
But only gifts of love.

Faye Reyenga © 1 / 2 / 2008
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