Hands
Old and worn with leathery, callused skin
Delicate bones showing age and wisdom
Showing experience of a thousand years
Threading and knitting to keep us warm
Fine muscles working to skillfully sketch
Valuable ligaments overflowing with words unwritten
To write words that make us cry
To spill dancing notes all over the musical staffs
Comforting a baby's cry of hurt
Tickling, causing delight and mirth
Brushing away tears of shame and humiliation
Combing knots and tangles out of a bushy head of hair
Softer, limber, agile fingers race
Across the piano keys, then violin strings
Maturing phalanges tap across the laptop
Loving the feeling of typing so fast
Taking up a pencil or a pen
For the first time, writing and not scribbling
Taking up a brush, crayon, or a colored pencil
Finally finding an art to enjoy
Clutching hands with my mother for safety
Grasping the hands of my father for reassurance
Gripping the manicured hands of my grandma for guidance
Hands for me to use everyday, to enjoy and to take comfort in
So many different uses, continually changing.