My fingers long and straight

A few scars that show

The mischief a child gets into

And hard work done when older

The nails are trimmed and clean

No polish on them today

The knuckles; the thumbs

The fine hairs just before the wrists

Strong, young hands

Hands that have such potential

To give pain, pleasure or to do simple tasks

Too bad the grip wasn't enough to keep you

You slipped through them like fine grains of sand.