Strong efficacious hands,
adaptable to any situation
yet possessing a touch,
that was incredibly feather light,
as a mere whisper in the dark.
Cajoling hands that could urge with a gentle,
yet, positive grace.

Hands that seen many a hardship.
Energetic hands.
Showing the capacity of prolonged,
and laborious efforts.
Delivering their benefits to her family,
without so much as a moments hesitation.

As the passage of time wore thin her reign.
Her hands began to lack their once vigor,
that held her crown in place.
As if the years had thought to bestow,
all the tears and heartache,
she incurred in her lifetime,
all at once.

Seeking other hands to erase,
the years that she now wore.
The now feeble hands reached out to
those she once cared and nurtured,
unsure but hopeful, they would reciprocate.

I offered her my capable hands,
without a moments hesitation.
Having learned from the love,
she bestowed upon me.
Her right as my mother.
My right as her daughter,
to reverse the role of caretaker.

Regrets.... I have none.
Except to see those hands,
grasp mine once again,
with all her assurances that,
I did everything I possibly could,
with a feather like touch,
so as not to disturb her crown.