I'm dedicating this poem to a stranger...It's a little boy who lost his
mother in an accident. I really felt sorry for him. I even cried for
him.(secretkey, don't tell them anything about what happened then.k?).He
was too young to make money, too young to say anything to his mother, so
I'm going to speak for him *pats him on the head*. Don't tease me about
this and for the last .shut up about this whole thing.

**********
I saw you hide your hands in line
Behind that lady fair
I noticed too, hers soft and white
Immaculate from care
But mom, I say, it's no disgrace
To have working hands like you
And had she lived a tough life like you
She'd have hands just like yours too.
They've never touched a young one.
Or caressed a fever's head
With hands so gently folded
All night beside their bed
They've never made a Christmas gift
Shaped by a loving hand
They've never peeled apples
Or opened food that's canned
They've never worn blisters.
Or had calluses to show
For all they've helped and done to others
And they kindness that I know
So you see my dearest mother
Your hands are hands of love
And I bet the lord will notice.
When he greets you from a bove.

********** ********** ********** **********

^_^ Do you guys like it. My cousin helped me a lot on this poem. So I can't
take all the credit myself. It took us a long time.*exhausted.*
BUT IT'S WORTHED!! *enthusiastic*
^.^