A Memory Close at Hand

Shirley Smothers writes of a moment that many little girls carry with them forever--that of their mothers brushing their hair. So soothing when our hair was clean and soft, and so tough when our hair was tangled.  Shirley's poem helps that fleeting moment become eternal in her poem, "My Mother's Gentle Hands."

My Mother's Gentle Hands

My Mother used to comb
my long hair; when she
hit a tangle, I would cry
out in pain.


She would place her gentle
hands on my head and whisper,
"I'm sorry, darling, but you
must endure the pain so that
your hair will be shiny
and beautiful."


When my life hits a tangle,
I long for my Mother's
gentle hands to
ease the pain.

--Shirley Smothers