My Mother’s Hands

My mother’s hands are soft, smooth and soothing,
And they carry sweet memories I will not be forgetting.
They’ve opened the Bible and folded in prayer,
And labored in writing sweet notes full of care.
They’ve tended to diapers, dinners and dishes,
And tearful small faces she mends with her kisses.
Her dear hands hold those of the weak and fatigued,
And wipes away tears of the hurt, sick and grieved.
She touches my face and it sends thrills to my soul,
And fills me with calm like a sweet, gentle lull.
I know in my heart God blessed her with such
Sweet, precious hands to remind us how much
He loves and adores us with loyal, true love,
And a heart that is gentle, much more than a dove.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem