Hands

Young hands,
Smooth-skinned, supple,
Fingers spread wide to catch the morning sun.

Strong hands,
Powerful and direct,
Gripping tightly the reins of life's Carousel.

Gentle hands,
Softly stroking, lightly touching,
Safe and considerate, hands to hold the beats of a heart.

Knotted hands,
Twisted, scarred,
Legacy of a life lived grappling at the edge.

Cold hands,
Limp and damp,
Their touch can drain laughter and freeze the soul.

Old hands,
Pale and thin of skin,
Time's lines worn like translucent lace.

Cruel hands,
Sharp of nail, taut of sinew,
Claws set to the world's face, tearing, rending...

Newborn hands,
Pink and delicate,
Tiny balled up fists like seeds, life's potential gripped within.

Many, many hands,
Each unique yet all alike,
Builders of dreams, weavers of thoughts,
their touch is mankind's signature in the sands of time.