Thelma S. Pierce McBurney
Poem by Thelma S. Pierce McBurney
Hands are a thing of beauty
When they are clasped in prayer
Hands are a thing of fury
When involved in deeds they shouldn't dare.
Hands are a thing of justice
When dealing in play that's fair
Hands can be so gentle
When tussling a small child's hair
Hands can be creative
When designing with a flair
Hands can be so loving
When for the sick they care
But hands that have no meaning
These are the hands that are rare
Your hands are so gentle
And oh so very dear
When you hold me and caress me
And your hands they draw me near.
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