My grandma's hands

Soft Soft Soft

She didn't wear any gloves

Her touch gave us hopes

When she brought me sweet potatoes

Golden bangles in her hands

Didn't moisturise, whether cold and wet

Outside work and chores 

She's never been women's speck

Hard as Himalayan, pure as Ganga

They named my grandma a beautiful diva

I let her sleep, the path in dreadful & mist

Forest, Recall affection of her presence.



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