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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
HANDS, by MARY ANN SOUTOR
First Line: My mother's hands could cradle large, brown jugs with ease
Last Line: Molded to sift the gold long laid away.
Subject(s): Hands; Mothers; Stepmothers
First Line: My mother's hands could cradle large, brown jugs with ease
Last Line: Molded to sift the gold long laid away.
Subject(s): Hands; Mothers; Stepmothers
My mother's hands could cradle large, brown jugs with ease,
Jugs and hands well blended, I recall.
Not of poetic beauty could or will they boast,
But they were hands made to please
And soothe a small boy and his pain.
Rough and sketchy, portrait incomplete --
Put away and not displayed to all.
But the hands of my father's wife
Were soft, cool and delicate, they say.
Their pointed nails painstakingly were dipped
In red -- red as blood of life.
Coaxed were they to curve,
These hands of picturesque beauty bold,
Molded to sift the gold long laid away.
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