I watch my friend's hands
As he talks, smokes
Writes
Takes photographs
Folds a sweater
Fills a glass with water
I watch these hands
Perform every menial task
And I cannot understand
These hands have no equal
And yet, they have not grown proud and vain
They do not admire themselves
They demand nothing, seek no reward
My friend's hands are quiet and kind
Pleasingly efficient
Tireless and unaware of their beauty
Like the youngest daughter
In a fairy tale
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