My mother’s hands,

are the strongest hands I know.

Long fingers with long colored nails

that change from time to time.

My mother’s hands,

are hands that I’ve come to know best.

Holding them while crossing the street,

or clutching to them as a baby.

My mother’s hands,

raised my sister and I.

From packing our lunches,

to driving us around.

My mother’s hands,

are ambitious ones,

and work at home,

so her hands,

are always close to my sister and I.

But what if my mother’s hands were not.

Without those beautiful hands,

how could she have done any if these things.

How different could it be without those hands.

How much harder would it have been.

For that I am thankful for my mother’s hands,

and you should be too,

because I can’t imagine a life without them.