Now I look at my worn
old hands
I wonder at
time’s moving sands
Marvel at all
they and I have done
With such countless
rounds of the sun
I sought comfort at
my mother’s breast
Pointing to what
I wanted best
Then touching my
fathers nose
Or pushing away a
medicine dose
My childish digging
the beaches sand
Splashing in the
sea hand in hand
Patting and
stroking the family dog
Or catching a
bewildered frog
Sneaking a touch of my classmate’s
curls
Forgetting I didn’t
like such girls
Then later after
holding one tight
Started thinking
of our wedding night
Touch is such an
important gift
The heart then
soars with such a lift
These hands drew
and wrote so many words
Setting my mind
free to fly as the birds
They wrote of
adventure and of fable
Of love and
honesty as I was able
I wonder at
time’s moving sands
As I look at my
worn old hands
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