The most beautiful hands...

The most beautiful hands are

Neither pretty nor pink,

Nor polished nor prim,

Nor soft nor shiny.

But are hard from the bruises,

Dirty from the toil and

Dark from the tan.

The most beautiful hands are

Worn to the bone

But work all day long.
They know of no fears

But have tasted blood,

Sweat and often tears.

They are neither small nor big,

Neither young nor aged

Nor idle nor empty.

The hands that grows,

Ploughs and tows

Are gentle from generosity,

Selfless from sacrifices and

Honest from hardships
They are the Farmer’s hands,

The hands that reap gold from ground.