Mother's day
Mama’s Hands
Held breast to my hungry mouth
They soothed me when I cried
Wiped my poop without reservation
Pulled my body close for warmth
Always touched, always felt, always there
Mama’s hands
They pointed at my meandering ways
And spanked my youthful rebellion away
Oh! how I hated them then
But they still drew me close for love
And never tired of hours on the farm
To finance my usually extravagant ways.
Mama’s hands
Now cracked and caroused
Bruised and worn from manual work,
Wrinkled and frail from age
Yet they gently tilt my chin
To search deep into my eyes
And bring out every hidden pain
They wipe the worry lines away
Mama’s hands still take great pride
In making my all-time favorite dish
Ohhh Mama… you are irreplaceable!!
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