Holding Mama's Hands
Today my seeking heart demands
a poem lovely as these hands.
Each wrinkle is a memory.
How strong and sure they used to be!
As fragile fingers bravely try
to squeeze my hand, sweet moments fly.
I know grief soon will have its way,
but now I’ll keep my tears at bay.
Today I long to pen for her
sweet words of praise that tears would blur.
Choice words I need now hover near;
I’m trusting God will make them clear.
March 1, 2022
entered in the "A Poem Lovely as a . . . " Contest Placed 1st
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
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