Hands of Mine

These hands of mine
Are crooked, calloused
Weathered, rough, work-worn
Looking as if they belong
To a person older and wiser than I

Hands of mine
Covered in paint
Splotched in ink
Covered in scars gained
From battling with creativity

These hands of mine,
Though crooked, are loving
Scarred and calloused, yet gentle
Weathered and work-worn but compassionate

Hands of mine
That tell so much
Yet noticed so little
Trembling with kindness
Hardened by battle scars

These hands of mine,
Though old and wise,
Are enough for me

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