These young and new hands
Feel a forever weight of a ring.
They feel the roughness
Of a mans body.
Of clinging to his hand and
Suddenly pop
My hands, one moment squeezing
The living **** out of everything
Is now sweetly caressing
A newborn babe.
I feel my hands hold it
So carefully
And so cautiously,
And that is how
My hands dealt with him
For his life.
When he was sick
I'd rub his tummy
Or hold him
Or hug him
And feel my hands clutch
The safety grip
In the car as I taught him to drive.
Feel my hands holding onto a
Red graduation cap.
Then suddenly
My hands feel a new babe,
And my hands help out
To take care of her.
They would hold her
Until her father
And my son
Took her away into his.
And I feel her grow up
With every hug
And every pat on the knee.
And I'm so busy
Working with my hands
I don't notice them
Until I am failing to
Open a simple bottle for Advil.
I notice them.
And their veins
And their knuckles
And their soft old skin.
I feel their tiredness
And see their old spots.
My hands,
So busy with anything else in this world,
I didn't realize I was
Growing old.