In my hands my little son found solace
rocking and singing he became calm
that be the beginning of my hands association .
Holding my hands my son got across
with a feeling secure he went about
that be the preliminary take of my hands.
Holding his hands I taught him to write
write did he with figures small and big
that was the secondary level of the hands of mine.
The hands that moulded him to the perfection
the way he grew up under its protection
that be the third degree connection of my hands.
The time has come for him to move
taking the hands of mine he goes forward
a final position of my hands with him.
Seeing my hands now I find
they be worn out with wrinkles around
shaky they are fit to end up the strive.
Well, they were the same hands long back
robust and strong full of life
soft and tender as a petal.
The hands have told you a story
that of being the tale of every mother