Great Grandma's Hands

Great Grandma’s Hands

Withered, leathered, tough as nails,
Gentle as a birds wing.
Delicate and veined were they,
The hands that were my everything.

On sunny days outside they’d teach,
About nature and living beings.
Sun spotted and freckled were they,
The hands that were my everything.

Rain wouldn’t dampen our spirits,
For “Magical” was the lightning.
Dry and cold were they,
The hands that were my everything.

In the snow we would play for hours,
I would forget that I was freezing.
Creative and talented were they,
The hands that were my everything.

Seasons change, and life fades,
But her memory is never ending.
I only knew them twelve short years,
The hands that were my everything.