Momma’s Hands

Momma’s Hands

I watched my mother’s hands
Not too narrow yet elegant
Ever so slightly kissed by age
Pores proudly on display

When will my hands look like hers?
Youthful, chubby, porcelain smooth.
Will I notice the moment it happens?
A minor mark of mortality - bright and flashing

I think it will be more subtle
A gradual observance of
Oh, these are her hands now!
A day when I don’t see my childhood in my palms

No longer only mine - these ancestral maps
Each line a reminder of survival
Infinite pathways to amble
The touch of age a reminder of life