Hands

Hands short poem

Photo by 55Laney69

I look with awe at worn out gnarled hands of a labourer
how well have they have served their master
mesmerised am I by a doctor’s hands gone rough with formaldehyde
how many lives saved they have
go green do I by matured hands of an elder woman
how many mouths have they satiated
watch with disbelief at hands of young village girls
who finish with alacrity a hundred tasks
smitten by love am I by small tender hands
which raise only to touch with love
but…..
swept with pity am I by delicate manicured hands
which know only to look pretty and nothing else

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