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Grandma's Hands
Sylvia Allison |
Alone she sat in her room
Bed made up, everything neat
Gently she rubbed her frail little hands
“Sit down”, she said as she patted the seat
“See these hands so scarred and worn?
They've really been through a lot
Oh, they've held more babies and such
Lots of things I had forgot –
My child I tell you to take care of your hands
For they're so important you see
They've wrote letters and cards to Grandpa
While he went away from me
Cooking meals and baking
Kept the house cleaned and tidied up
Early in the morning as I awoke
Warmed these hands with a coffee cup
You see these hands are special
They've done so much for me
Held you while you cried
Doctored on your little skinned knee
Waved goodbye as you went away
As you trotted through life so fast
Oh the memories of these hands
Tell so much that's in the past.”
Slowly I took her hand in mine
And reminded her I loved her so
Without her love and these tiny hands
No memories could I bestow?
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