Hands That Are Not Mine

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  • Emotional

    Hands That Are Not Mine

    My children awaken in the morning.
    They are welcomed to the new day...
    By arms
    That are not mine.

    My children cry from hunger.
    They are fed & nourished...
    By hands
    That are not mine.

    My children are tired.
    They are layed down for their naps...
    By hands
    That are not mine.

    My children are wet.
    They are changed or placed over a potty...
    By hands
    That are not mine.

    My children are laughing.
    They are amused by a toy that is held...
    By hands
    That are not mine.

    My children cry & then feel loved.
    They are held & comforted...
    By arms
    That are not mine.

    Although I miss & long for my children.
    I am so unspeakably thankful
    For arms... & hands...
    That are not mine.

    Written May 18th, 2005

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    Darklight commented on Hands That Are Not Mine

    02-10-2009

    Good poem like all your writings

    xxlheart commented on Hands That Are Not Mine

    02-04-2009

    your poetry is excellent and this piece is no exception. tough subject matter though...i need a break or i will fall apart here. will read more tomorrow.

    Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

    Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

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