Hands
With all the time on my hands, I gave my hands one job.
My Hands -The Artist-
My hands paint everything in my life
they paint my weakness, my strength
they paint the fire in my eyes
they hold me when I'm cold when I need them the most,
Like an architect, my hands colored my childhood,
In one touch they drew the plans and layouts of my life.
My hands, are very articulate, are they?
They continue to sew and show the way
Sometimes, my hands paint the truth, sometimes they paint lies
--- Painting hurtful images on drywall
My palms, my fingers embedded calluses from every fall
Creating images, healing my heart
Sometimes my hands are the only friend I see.
With no words to say, I caress the sky like a mime
My hands ride the wind, My hands paint the world,
Young and pretty fingerprints
They feel they hold, they grip, don't let go!
Clever so cute, It's time for motherhood
My hands painted your first hold, traced your first smile
A painting I treasure in my heart
Yes! A Rembrandt they became during birth
Now you're all grown up, embarrassed to embrace the hold
When I'm old you will hold my hands and remember the gold.
My hands paint designs when it comes to love
sometimes a masterpiece, sometimes a mistake
sometimes my hands feel images I can't describe
Handicap moments when lost
--- My hands, perfect when in love
They write songs when complete
So many interlock moments with you
Firm, the perfect match, my fingers spoke.
My hands -The Artist- they've been told!!!
Held so many times, always meeting, greeting,
waving hello's and goodbyes ... (you see my hands, they smile too)
Painful, arthritis, cuts, bruises, pinching my way through reality.
Reaching, holding on to dreams,
clapping, snapping fingers, we are a team.
My hand's age in every turning page
Shriveled and old, still, you embrace and love the hold
My hands touched and made a difference,
My hands are employed by me!
My hands give and pray, right and Left, they know their duty!
When they are bored, they tap-tap and draw THAT annoying noise.
My hands know secrets, a fortune teller can't reveal
they hold the past, present, and future in every line.
I extend my hands, without flipping the bird
Thank you, Hands, I enjoy a good sign language show!
In my next life, or so, I will praise my hands
Yes so beautiful, tender, they love to feel.......
My Hands -The Artist-
I can't believe with all the time on my hands,
I forgot to mention I'm left-handed.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
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