Friday, November 19, 2021

Holding Hands

Poem Day 19

Holding Hands

Holding hands comes early in our lives,
the first our mothers and then our fathers

who tenderly caress our tiny soft hands,
counting our little fingers with their thumbs,

humming a lullaby that soothes us.
When we are older, learning to walk,

off balance and wobbly, they again hold our hands,
carefully not to squeeze hard, allowing us

a bit of freedom to explore around the house.
During the pre-teen and through the teenage years,

our mothers hold our hands when we are asleep
when we won’t pull away because to us,

it isn’t cool to hold hands with our mothers.
The reversal begins too soon for some of us,

when our mothers or fathers now wobbly and off balance
need their hands held to walk to and from places.

Soon, way too soon, our parents lie subdued
in their beds, surrounded by family

family pictures, and other remembrances.
We hold their hand, squeezing periodically,

letting them know that we love and appreciate them.
During these days as we watch them grow closer

to passing over to another life, their new life,
we yearn for the days when it was they

who held our hands, gently caressing them,
holding us just firm enough, so if we did fall,

they would be there to swoop us up,
wrap us in their arms, smile, and coo!

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