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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1207645

Hand up, hand out - what are your hands good for?

My Hands

Standing up gingerly
Brushing dust from my pants
Though my body aches everywhere
My first thought is my hands

Tiny cuts and abrasions
All over the palms
As I touch each one gently
The other pains calm

These hands have been handy
Though they’ve seen better days
I’m proud of my mitts
All weathered and frayed

They pick me up when I stumble
They'll grab the next rung
These hands keep me alive and safe
Yup - they get the job done!
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