These Hands Poem by Jenny Bevan

what will become of these hands?
when the pale peachyness of life has left them.
will they be left cold and discoloured?
forgotten and alone.

will they be remembered as kind hands?
that gave though there was nothing to keep for them selves.
will they be hailed heroic hands?
that saved the weak and troubled.

were these caring hands?
thats touch could warm the soul.
were these skillful hands?
that created joy out of sorrow.

no. for these were ordinary hands.
plain and simple.
no tear shall fall, no memory shall live.