Her Hands

So slender its length and smooth to the touch,
Manicured perfectly and dressed up in red,
Vixen nails out to there and tapping impatiently,
ready for a night out on the town to catch an eye,
while they gesture with a language all their own.

So lines have appeared under the daily work load,
chipped nails catch on clothing with another baby to feed,
Caring caresses and pats on the little one's back,
ready to pick up dirty clothes and wash the days dishes,
and be used in a hug when the hubby comes home.

So a little more wrinkled they have stories to tell,
of clapping encouragement at various sporting events,
or catching tears during sad movies or stories,
playing board games with kids and helping with homework,
and still more hugs and high fives of endless encouragement.

So older and a bit rough as they wave to their kids,
Waving high up in the air with encouraging remarks,
or with a pat on the back for a job that is well done,
holding on to their children tightly before they leave,
one last squeeze as grown kids leave to college or a new job.

So weathered and worn which is what a busy life brought,
but now they have slowed down a bit to enjoy life's greatest moments,
the softness of newborn grand babies held tightly within its grasp,
the hardness of a book or a the fluff of a loved pet,
and the comforting and familiar touch of one's true love.

So weak and curled fingers as age takes a toll,
but now it writes with a great fever to share all it knows,
the bruises and cuts it has cleaned and medicated,
the many slow hugs and touches of loved ones and friends,
still so much work to do before it will let the pen go.