My mother’s hands

washing potatoes
washing kids
washing pans.

My mother’s hands
on bitterly cold days

pegging yet more washing
on a pregnant line

the line growing nothing but
nappies

her hands blind
with the cold.

My mother’s hands
ironing clothes
ironing clothes
ironing countless knickers

for my seven sisters.

My mother’s hands
taking my hands
in hers

such love...such laughter!

My mother’s hands
patting talcum powder

on another baby’s bum.

Mum being Mum.

Me, kissing

my mother’s hands

for all...they’ve done.

******

My Mother's Tears - A Haiku

Magpies and nappies
growing on the Winter line.
My Mam...tired...crying.

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-mother-s-hands-4/