Hands Poem by Robert Edgar Burns

Mothers day is coming soon.
I've always been so proud of you.
My father so honored you became his wife.
I honor you now for giving me life.

If I were to write you Mom, a song,
I'd wish you'd love to sing along.
The tune would be so very grand.
I'd have to mention your loving hands.

Hands that healed, and hands that led.
Hands that scrubbed, and hands that bled.
Hands that held, and beckoned come.
Hands that made our house a home.

Hands that cooked, and hands that fed.
And hands that tucked us Into bed.
Hands that folded into prayer,
When thanking our Lord for His care.

Hands that have now joined Gods above.
Hands that always reached out in love.
Hands that someday when I come,
I'll want to hold, the hands of Mom.