Hands

"Busy hands are happy hands,"
My mother used to say.
What a gift are any hands
To hold, to work or play.

It’s when you put you hand in mine
I appreciate them best.
It’s strength and warmth that they convey;
Mine there can safely nest.

Together, hands can build and do,
Provide, shield, patty-cake
With tots and also peek-a-boo,
Massage to soothe an ache.

Do surgery or sew a seam,
Paint a masterpiece,
Catch and throw and climb and swim;
God’s wonders never cease.

Of muscles, sinews, bones and skin,
They are marvels in design;
I appreciate them best
When your hand is holding mine.