The hands of my mother

POEM 36-A
MY MOTHER'S HANDS
Those hands that when I was born
caressed my face.
Those hands that with such tenderness and love
always took care of me.
Those hands of yours, MAMINA,
that against all apparent enemy
always protected me,
that much heat, sweetness and love gave me.
I remember that when I was a little girl I wanted to have your beautiful hands
with long fingernails painted carmine red.
I  loved your hands on my face
encouraging me to keep going.
I remember your hands blessing me every day in my childhood,
when I went to kindergarten and then to the School;
and continued blessing me throughout my youth
and even now in my maturity.
Howdo notlove your hands?
Hands that took mine
to teach me to walk my first steps,
hands that healed my wounds in every fall.
Was enough a single touch of your hands
to make me feel absolutely happy.
Even now, a single touch of your hands
is enough for me to feel loved immeasurably.
Your hands never physically punished me
because you always had timely advice,
teaching principles and values
that made me an honest and respectable lady.
The touch of your hands, my mother,
is what my mind more misses,
even very very old and full of freckles, now,
remain for me the most beautiful hands of former times.
p. Advocate  BRIGETTE FARFÁN BENITES
POST. DIPLOMACY AND INTERNATIONAL SCIENCES
All rights reserved to the author
Guayaquil - Ecuador - South America
January 4, 2013
POEM DEDICATED TO MY MOTHER MYRNA ADRIANA BENITES VELASQUEZ WIDOW FROM ANGEL FARFAN , brave and kind person whom I am extremely proud.