My hands are worn and tattered
They bare age and time
As I look at them now
I can't believe that they're mine
I would look at my mothers hands
When I was a little girl
I would compare them to my own
Wonder when mine would look like hers
Now time has rung true
So many things my hands have done
The familiar look of my mothers
From my daughters and my sons
My hands are tough and hard
From the years of a mothers time
Taking care of my family
As the years leave behind
The hands of my mother
I look down now and see
I just pray that they've done
Half as good as she
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem