Nana's Hands

Through the years they worked their spells
     From drawers and cupboards, taking things
       That through them, thus, were given wings
        And changed to sweetness meant for kings
       With warm and wafting scrumptious smells
    My Nana's hands ...

       Countless times we'd strolled to town
   To shop for what she'd need that eve
 (First taking stock before we'd leave)
A shopping list tucked up her sleeve
 My wee lad's fingers, safe and sound
    In Nana's hands ...

The way back home was twice as long
     Our arms filled plump with paper sacks
       The makings and some special snacks
        Oh, how the groceries bent our backs
       Yet even then, I held on tight ...
    To Nana's hands ...

       Still it was always worth the chores
   To watch her mix and bake and cook
 While dancing to-and-from her nook
And glancing, sometimes, in a book
 Oh, how I marveled and adored ...
    My Nana's hands ...

But sometimes they were hard to hold
     Curled with arthritis, wracked with pain
       She oft' times had to stretch and strain
        Though NEVER did she ONCE complain
       Through rheumatism's stranglehold ...
    On Nana's hands ...

See ...

       Those bent old hands in disrepair
   Worked twice as hard so we could eat
 Thus each night's meal and every treat
Was that much more divine and sweet
 All from the love and tender care ...
    Of Nana's hands ...

And still, my fingers long to share ...
     My Nana's
       Gentle ...
        Hands.

                          
                - by Gregory R Barden





~ 2nd Place ~  in the "Cornucopia Cooking" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.

Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2019