My grandmother's hands
My grandma has gloved hands.
Those hands are sensitive to cold.
But her naked hands have some secret inner thoughts,
A kind of strange nonchalance.....
All it's movements has a swift, startled grace about them.
Every crease,wrinkle and even a small dip of her finger has a story to tell....
Safety,security ,comfort all in the gentle caress of her finger.
That brief touch connects us when we are happy,
Bolsters us in times of grief.
She may not have soft ,velvet hands,
Or hands without a faint tremor
But when it wipes my tears,
When it lovingly sweeps out all the remnants of bitterness in my heart,
Maybe that's what I cherish the most in my life.......