Work Them Hands...

My hands show exactly how I am, from the very knuckles to my finger tips. Rough, dry, worn, even vainy. Yet, they're always clean and, dare I say, presentable. They've always led two separate lives, always connected to the same arm, belonging to the same man. Multitalented objects, these hands, which hold the truth to the life of the body they're attatched to.

Of course, nobody can get the whole story on a certain someone by merely examining their 10 fingers. Its either dirty or clean, rough or smooth, one or the other. Maybe its because I don't recall ever thinking about this, but I've got some interesting paws. Its certainly not a unique talent, by any standards, but these babies get downright nasty and work hard for one part of the day, but the complete opposite later on, morphing into a gentle combination of love and tenderness. Either petting the family dog or reaching out to lend some help to someone, the same ones that no more than 2 hours earlier, washed the mosquitoes from the front of a customers' vehicle. They do it all, really, which is why I havent had to complain so far. Too bad they're the only two I've been blessed with.