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Wanda L. Harrell

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Eyes and Hands of Life
by Wanda L. Harrell

Monday, October 10, 2011
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Wanda L. Harrell
•  I Shall
•  Nothing is Forever
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•  Winter Morning
           >> View all 210

Copyright 2011, Wanda L. Harrell








© 2011, Wanda L. Harrell


As a babe, my eyes sought the comfort of my mother’s face while, from my crib, my hands reached out for her touch.


As a wee toddler, my eyes looked for every wildflower, while my hands busily and carefully plucked each bloom.


As a little girl, my eyes followed my dad’s movements until he held my small hand within his larger, protective one.


As I teenager, my eyes danced about, looking for love, while my hands reached out for direction.


As a young bride, my eyes did not veer away as my handsome groom placed a ring of gold upon my hand.


As a mother, my eyes carefully watched each child, and my hands did not miss an opportunity to hold their small hands within mine.


As a grandmother, my eyes proudly beheld the next generation while my hands carefully touched their velvety skin.


As a woman in the middle of her years, my eyes shed tears when the band of gold I’d worn for 25 years was removed from my hand.


As a woman late in her years, my eyes now seek my One Precious One for one last look while my wrinkled hands are held in his.


As a woman at the end of her life, my eyes will seek the face of our Lord as He extends His hand to mine.



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Reviewed by Debbie Lacy 10/11/2011
This poem is simply Awesome! I love how you've captured each significant phase of your life with the touch of your hands Wanda! Very nicely written and thanks so much for sharing it! :)


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