Posing for the camera,
I took my grandma’s hand in mine,
They felt so soft.
I looked down surprised,
They were speckled with brown and purple spots,
Lined with veins.
Her knuckles were enormous,
The rest of her fingers,
As skinny as a pencil.
Her wedding ring hung loose.  

I stared too long.
I tried to cover up by saying,
“Your hands are beautiful.”
She laughed and called me a liar.