Memories of Busy Hands His hands- Goalie hands. Hands that wrote letters To family left behind, Across the Atlantic. Thick fingers able to clasp the newest Necklace around his wife’s slender neck. Cracking Sunday-morning eggs, Carving Christmas roast beef, Folding napkins into swans, Mixing Shirley Temples with the Maraschino, after Serving the wealthy their Saturday night dinner....
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Happy Mother’s Day
To My Mother I never understood that even at my worst Your unconditional love would survive. I never understood that all of your questions Were meant to get to know me. I never understood that no matter where I was...