Ode To Their Hands
Delicate hands that belong to her,
She who gave my father life.
She constantly works throughout the day,
And takes her rest at night.
Wrinkles cover the skin that used to be so young,
Making her fingers more delicate than ever.
Working her way through days and nights,
But always soft as a feather.
She peels the skin off grapes for my cousin,
And strokes our backs when we’re sad.
She clasps her other half with her,
The action makes me glad.
Rough hands that belonged to him,
Her lover, partner in life.
Now resting under the sea,
Now no longer in sight.
He taught me how to swim,
To always stay positive.
He’d encouragingly touch my shoulder,
How I wish you he a longer life to live.
Been through ups and downs, twists and turns,
Only two during World War Two,
If only I could see her and him again,
For both, I didn’t want to lose.
Such great partners they made,
Joined together on that special day.
To the gods I always pray,
I will see them all together one day.