My Grandmother’s Hands

Grandmas Hands


Sometimes we remember the darndest things

like my Grandmother’s nails

When I file my nails

I see her hands

She was always filing her nails

They were always perfect

She liked them with oval tips

Her nails had deep ridges in them

from age

Her hands were strong, brown

Wrinkled like raisins

Those hands that did my hair

Snapped green beans

Cooked and baked

The most beautiful hands in the world

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