Mom's Hands Poem by Nafisa SB

My mom's hands had become wrinkled and old
But to me, they were still, precious as gold
They still could soothe us with a touch
I valued their ability, so very much

These hands had cooked many a dish
They had helped fulfil many a wish
They had laboured so hard, day after day
They taught us to work, they taught us to play

They were, in our youth, so capable and strong
They warned with anger, when we did something wrong
They also clapped for us, whenever we won
They helped us play games, and also have fun

They would remain folded, to pray for us, all
We saw them raised to bless us, so we didn't fall
A tazbee* in her hands, was always there,
To remind us of her constant, tender loving care

My mom, alas, is now no more
She has travelled peacefully to the distant shore
But the lessons she taught about right and wrong
Keep inspiring us, and make us strong

[note: Tazbee-prayer beads]