Mother's hands

My mother's hands are thin; frail
No longer are they strong as nails
My mother's hands are shaky; weak
No longer are they capable; nor do they seek
To labour as they used to do...
It is enough to see them laying 
Upon white sheets; life is delaying 
The inevitable and yet to me
My mother's hands are beautiful...
These once strong hands carried me
Held me close; cradled me; loved me
My mother's hands dealt fairly too
Chastised when there was need
Fr her family these hands did bleed
Yes; these hands were rarely still
These busy hands cooked; cleaned
Worked at many chores; what's more?
Knitted love and warmth for us all
How could any daughter?
Not love her mother as she ought to...