A poem about the beauty and strength of a working man’s hands.

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His hands were strong and masculine,
Muscular and tan,
Wearing scars of labor,
The hands of a working man.

I found myself staring at those hands,
Studying their shape and size,
Likened to hands of a sculptor,
Knowing and wise.

His touch was warm and comforting,
A testament to his manhood,
With hands that sensed just where to go,
And knew just why they should.

Ahh…the hands of a working man,
Like a roadmap to where he’s been,
A promise of where he will go,
And a reflection of what lies within.

Liked it
  • Yennijo on Feb 3, 2009

    What a wonderful take on a man’s strength and warmth. It is a cozy feeling.

  • yes me on Oct 21, 2011

    A great read this one Linda , one can observe so much in a hand cheers

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