I look at my hands these days and they remind me of my mother. Where in the world did these wrinkles come from? What have I done?
I tend them properly, lotions and creams. I polish my nails with a block made of silicone and diamonds. Yet...
when I open my hands why do the remind me of my mothers?
I wonder......
4 comments:
many are those who tread the paths they are familier with, hence mom's hands? :)
This sounds like the kernel for a poem to me... :)
Roberta -- this picture and the thoughts about mothers' hands has caused me to think about my mother's hands, and I think, inspired my next poem! Thanks.
Your post has inspired me to work on a poem about my mother's hands. Not the same idea at all, but you "got me thinking" as we say!
Post a Comment