The palms of her hands,
By the housework that she does,
Before sending me off in the morning.
And work is always tiring,
Never giving a chance to play,
And her frail body always bears the pain,
Those palms told me that.
And when our daughter grew up and beautiful,
She’ll leave the house, and be left in hers,
She’ll make a living with a pair of hands,
That’s still soft by roughening the palm of her hands.
The palm of her hands,
Wave to me in the evening when I came home,
Then she said ‘husband, I love you’,
And I just wanna say ‘I love you too!’
30th July 2010
(This is like a mirror to ‘The Soles of His Shoes’. Well, passion needs to be shown by both sides, right?)