Her work worn hands are quiet now. <br />Something I never thought to see <br />She used them so industriously <br />no idleness would she allow. <br /> <br />Except on Sundays, even then <br /> she used her hands to underline. <br />The tales she told of Holy Men <br />from the Good Book she thought divine. <br /> <br />Although in fact she could not read <br /> her versions were from memory. <br />She still held firmly to her creed. <br />Her brand of Christianity. <br /> <br />Which she expressed practically. <br />Not words but deeds her chosen way. <br />In the event of tragedy <br /> she offered help without delay. <br /> <br />She will be missed by everyone <br /> whose life she touched in some small way. <br />or all the acts of kindness done. <br />To other people every day <br /> <br />Her work worn hands lie quietly <br /> in prayerful pose upon her breast <br />As mourners pass respectfully <br />to say farewell as they think best. <br /> <br />24-Mar-08<br /><br />ivor or ivor.e hogg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/quiet-hands/
