Our hands do tell our secrets to all who choose to hear.
They tell if we are young or old and even tell our fear.
They tell if we work in the garden and even in the garage.
Each crease and indentation, every bump and every spot, all hold the timeless tales that we learned or we taught.
Some are soft and others hard as stone.
Some hands hold our children, some hold only pain.
Look upon the hands of a person that you know, and please don’t act surprised when you listen to the truths that their hands will surely bestow.