You've watched those tiny hands,
Tireless, as they played;
You've cleaned dirt from their fingernails,
Removed a soiled Band-Aid.
But have you once considered,
As you watched them through the day,
Just how they might use those hands
When their youthfulness fades away?
Those tiny hands may one day erect
Tall castles in the sand;
They may help in search and rescue,
Or become a fireman's hand.
Those tiny hands may be skilled
To hold a surgeon's knife,
Or wrap tight around a pistol
To take an innocent life.
Those tiny hands may write poetry,
Or spin a roulette wheel,
Or clutch a bottle of whiskey;
They may rob, loot or steal.
Those tiny hands may cause others
To live a life of wicked sin,
Or point to the Way of truth
To bring a sinner in.
So may we observe more closely,
As life unfolds its strands,
And never overlook the largeness
Found in those tiny hands.
Beautiful poem, I hope to have tiny hands of my own to watch in a few years.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Those tiny hands may write poetry, Or spin a roulette wheel, Or clutch a bottle of whiskey; They may rob, loot or steal A wonderful poem, intense and thought-provoking.