I loved her hands, although

They had no charm or beauty,

Were coarse and rough by doing

The daily chores and duty.

They fed me when I was hungry,

Carried me when I was tired,

Men work till a certain age,

But she, never, ever, retired.

Those hands aren’t soft to touch,

Yet I could feel their warmth,

Caressing me with tender love,

They infuse in me strength.

They are the hands of my mom,

The prettiest thing on planet earth,

Fragrance of, even, Eden garden

Cannot match ‘N supersede their worth

                                                                              ~Sudha Dixit

                                                                                         Bangalore, India