Edelweiss's picture of HANDS. . .

Today I held my mothers hand the way she always held mine,
her mind is fading, her eyesight near gone, and yet her grip is fine.

Is this the way God meant it to be,
we eventually become the parents of those we hold dear,
To comfort and keep them safe from all fear.

Once we were their children and they nurtured us gladly,
Now the tables have turned their care unto us, I find sadly.