Loving, Aging Hands
by Kristine Stanton © 2026O, I remember days of old
when my hands cradled you.
They wiped away your tiny tears
and changed your diapers, too.
They held your tiny fingers, dear,
when you had learned to walk
and lifted you when you fell down;
they clapped when you first talked.
They've offered comfort — tenderness,
and worked hard through the years
to guide your steps and keep you safe
and chase away your fears.
These aging hands now gently hold
the child you just bore —
a gift from God — a cherished one,
whom I'll love evermore.
This poem won second place for the
January 2026 poetry contest
