My mother used her hands to work hard on our farm.
She used them to keep fires nice and warm.
My mom used her hands to carry me.
She was a proud mom of seven, you see.
Her hands were used to wash our clothes,
And they were used to wipe our nose.
She made delicious meals for us to eat.
Cookies, cinnamon rolls, for us was a treat.
She used her hands for each household chore.
She used them to vacuum and mop the floors.
I'm sure when we were small her hands hugged us tight,
And she tucked us into bed at night.
My mother's hands became wrinkled and sore.
She used them to help us wrap gifts from the store.
She wrote to us when we were away from home.
She often called her best friend on the phone.
She used her hands to mend clothes which needed repair.
She used them to wash and curl my hair.
Her hands were used to lead us in prayer.
She used them to show us how much she cared.
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