These Hands
Once these twisted hands were shapely
And were busy every day
In the molding of three children
As a sculptor shapes his clay.
These hands were always busy
With the tasks they had to do
In the raising of a family
And in service Lord, to you.
These old hands still have the power
To write poetry to share
And to model for a grandchild
How to fold his hands in prayer.
Loving hands with age defiled
Can still soothe a sobbing child.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2010
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