My Hands Revisited

My Hands Revisited

They are small
these hands of mine.
They are man hands
(you have taught me that).
Warm, gentle,
happy to touch another.
They look healthy as I
examine them through your eyes.

They are not my
Dad’s hands,
strong and rough.
They are my hands,
warm and gentle.
I give them to you to hold,
should you need them.

-I love my hands-

Several years after writing My Hands (see previous post for that poem) I met someone that changed the way I feel about myself. She made me see things in a way I had not been able to see them before. I decided to revisit my hands and this was the result.

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