This woman was one of the few inspirations in my life.....She passed away this past Feburary.. 5 days before my birthday. This is for her.....

 

 

Such beautiful, beautiful, hands,

They're neither white nor small.

And you, I know, would scarcely think,

That they were fair at all.

I've looked on hands whose form and hue,

A sculptor's dream might be,

Yet are these age'd wrinkled hands,

Most beautiful to me.

Such beautiful, beautiful hands.

Though heart were weary and sad.

These patient hands kept toiling on,

That us children might be glad.

I almost weep when looking back,

To childhood distant day,

I think how these hands rested not,

While mine were at their play.

Such beautiful, beautiful hands.

They're growing feeble now,

And time and pain have left their mark

On hand and heart and brow.

Alas alas the nearing tme

And the sad sad day to me

When neith the daisys,out of sight,

These hands must folded be.

But oh beyond the shadowy lands,

Where all is bright and fair,

I know full well these dear old hands,

Will palms of victory bear.

When crystal streams,through endless years,

Flow over golden sands,

And where the old are young again,

I'll hold my Grandma's hands.

 

~Emma Gates ~