Hands that speak
Weathered and worn, blemished and bent.
Each has a story of a life that is spent.
Stories of war and peace, that need expressed.
Of hardships and joy, the hearer is blessed.
They shake, they bump, they’re strong, they’re weak.
They’re rough, they’re tough, they hold a pure mystique.
I see all kinds as I walk through the halls.
The story each holds is sure to enthrall.
I am going to stop and ask the story to be told.
I need to hear it, it will be something to behold.
I’ll ask about the lines, the scars, the stories they bear.
The bends and the stiffness that they currently wear.
Each has an amazing story that we all need to hear.
Let’s stop long enough while the tales are still clear.
And as we think of the stories we have been told.
Look at our own hands at what stories they hold.
Tell someone your story…