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Grandma's Hands

by Danette Kettwich

A Grandma's hands map a journey,
From hope to days of strife.
They once were young and held
Promise of a fruitful life.

Hands at one time captured
Fireflies in a Mason jar.
A Grandma's hands touch
Lives both near and far.

Hands mapped with age
Once held her babies close,
Ruffling up tousled hair
In confident repose.

Hands that bridges family
When the times are tough.
Grandmas always giving
A little is never enough!

They teach us of respect,
Inspire each of us to shine;
Given for us to hold on to
Created by God's design.

Clasped around little hands
Teaching how to love and pray
Grandma's hands so precious
Helping to guide the way.

Hands that do so much
Even now will not be stilled;
For within each of our hands
We pass on the love instilled.

Psalm 92:14
They will still yield fruit in old age; They shall be full of sap and very green,

Psalm 145:4
One generation shall praise Thy works to another, And shall declare Thy mighty acts.

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Click Here to contact Danette Kettwich to request permission to use this poem.