My Mother's Hands

December 2, 2011
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The aroma of smothered chicken breast

and steamed broccoli covered in gravy

Unfolds within her hands.

Their smooth lavender touch

Rescues the marching tears

That roll down the hills

Of my carmel cheeks.

When I am breaking like a bridge in an earthquake

Her hands cradle me

Like a gorilla cradling her baby.

In the twilight of the night

They run deep into my starry sheets

Tucking me in as I dream of her hands

Forming the moon and the stars.

As she folds her hands

I thank them for their gentle touch.

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