When she waved, I saw

Those agile hands,

That refused to plead for a place.

But laboured to earn every kobo f her fort

Calloused, but beautiful

Those warm loving hands,

That didn’t hush the little girl,

Or to snatch the pestle from her brother,

And walked them through life nd learning.

Calloused, but beautiful

Those generous hands

That wouldn’t leave the pocket empty

Or remain closed to seekers

of things her heart or hands could hold

Calloused, but beautiful

Those beautiful hands

That fought to keep peace at home,

Worked to nurture the young,

To weave bright colours onto their future.

Calloused, but beautiful

When she waved goodbye, i saw

A lifetime of toil and strife.

Bearer of the torch of womanhood

The one the young girl now holds

Scalded, bruised, calloused but still beautiful