Poem written to memorialize a mother

My Mother’s Hands

My mother’s hands tilled the earth
And tended the beasts in the place of her birth

My mother’s hands tickled the ivories
Making many a party that much more lively

My mother’s hands were magic, I’m sure
Placed on my fevered brow they provided a cure

My mother’s hands once typed up a paper for me
When I’d procrastinated and the hour got wee

My mother’s hands spent hours clasped in prayer
Her faith was beautiful and always there

My mother’s hands prepared meals that were nutritious
A few “science experiments” but most were delicious

My mother’s hands turned a house into a home
And gave us all a few things when it was our time to roam

When I’m missing those hands and all their charms
I think I’ll  just look down to the end of my arms

Because my hands have grown to look quite similar
But I can only hope they’ll measure up to her