Beautiful Hands Poem by Lotte Ahmad

Her hands are pudgy and worn-out.
They've neither known manicures nor special loving care.
Hard work is spelled by the calluses on the back of her right hand.
Hard work and little to no rest.
The blue-green veins that outline her transparent fair skin,
cannot be said to add any loveliness to her already plain features.
I never thought I'd find such hands, beautiful.
I always thought oval French tips, baby-soft palms and long nimble fingers
are the definition of beautiful feminine hands.
But as I look at her hands,
and read the untold story they unwittingly tell,
and watch her as she abashedly examines her clean but low-cut nails,
I've finally realised that the beauty of a woman's hands
are not in the evidence of a life without back-breaking work,
but in the story of sacrifice and service
that eyes may hide and deny,
but hands will always profess with pride.