Hands of woman, the tools of her trade,

Dishes and laundry and beds always made.

Dialing the doctor while groceries unpacked,

Cleaning and dusting and newspapers stacked.

Tireless endeavors she must see them all through,

Oh by the way she holds down a job too.

Many hats she wears as she changes tasks,

Be there for her is all she asks.

Her days are long and nights even longer,

Doing the impossible she somehow gets stronger.

Yet her strength is hidden by a gentle demeanor,

She is loved and respected by all who have seen her.

Wonder Woman by day and simply wondrous at night,

A treasure so cherished to be held fast and tight.

For sure a Goddess from the heavens above,

Such a marvelous vessel full of hope and of love.

Burdens of life she somehow handles in stride,

Where weaker men failed she never once even cried.

This woman so strong of head, hands, and heart,

Is greater than the sum of all of her parts.

For all of her powers we admire so much,

The greatest of all is her simple touch.

Others may deny it, but you must understand,

We know things will be OK by the touch of her hand.

A shoulder, a thigh, the stroke of a cheek,

Under her touch the strong become weak.

Yet within this weakness she gives us her strength,

To please and protect her we would go any length.

The power and magic in a woman demands,

That life as we know it begins and ends in her hands.