Baby hands, slippery with dribble,
Next, with fingers chubby and sticky,
Practising with a teaspoon,
Diving into a Squat Tiggywinkle dish.
New year’s Eve, woken by party noise,
Hands lifted high to joyful, incomprehensible Auld Lang Syne.
Nine years old. Walking with Dad.
His large warm hand,
Engagement ring shiny on slender finger.
Hands clenched tight,
Waving farewell to marriage – for now.
Supporting baby’s fragile neck.
Study, programming, handshakes, advancement.
Clapping with pride at children’s achievements.
Mixing, chopping, forming, washing up,
Burns on skin leave lines of scars.
Hands dusty from battered library books.
Skin like screwed up tissue paper,
Still tapping keys,
Gripping rails for balance,
Rubbing painful hips,
Painting, writing, creating,
Life’s not over yet.