Working Hands: An Ode To Blue Collar Workers (A Slightly Older Poem I Wrote)

Creased and discolored I know them,

many times have I seen them,
working hands.

Injured maybe,
hardened by time and labor,
though I see the heart behind them,
working hands.

Sometimes strong,
other times weak,
still it's clear,
working hands from a working soul are known,
known and appreciated;
ones I also have.

Sidenote: If any of the writing on this blog has made a good impact on your life in someway (EVEN if it was something you may have enjoyed reading for a particular reason), please feel free to share this blog with someone else who could be blessed also. Thank you for your support!

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