I picture her hands and
An image comes to mind.
Nails painted red and
Fingers wearing rings of every sort:
Sometimes gold, silver,
A diamond, and even sometimes
A turquoise stone.
Her hands,
Always pristine
Always giving
Somehow she always gives
Selflessly.
It's in her hands that she provides
And cares
And devotes
And yearns
And loves.

I will always remember her hands
Because they are the hands of someone who gave me life
If only my hands were so pure
So excellent
So impeccable and
Distinctly memorable.