With these hands

With these hands, I see more of the world than I could ever know. I pull the soft blanket off at dawn, Twist the faucet, water pooling in my palms, Snap back from coffee poured too hot, Slide the watch and strap it on. Turn the doorknob, it's cool from the air, Tap the keys, one's a little mushy today. The weight of the hammer, the strike driving deeper. A scratch of a pencil over smooth, silky paper. Raindrops tap and splash on a cloudy day, I wipe the tears from one heartbroken. My mother's hand, gentle against my face, Curling fingers between, interlaced. I see this world, more than I can ever show, With these hands.