My Hands May Be Little...

My hands may be little,

but they are my strength.

From bars to beam,

vault to floor.

My hands they may be little,

but they are my strength.

I am a gymnast,

through and through.

My hands tell my story.

They are weathered

and worn.

Calloused and torn.

Beaten up,

and sometimes bruised.

Though my hands may be little,

they are my strength.

Sometimes they are pretty,

though rarely soft.

They are usually rough

and covered in chalk.

They are the connection

between falling or defeat.

I know them to be reliable,

and expect perfection,

performance without fault.

My hands may be little,

but they are my strength.

My hands may be little,

but they are strong.

They know when to hold on,

and when to let go.

They make my routines feminine 
& oh, so beautiful.

They show off my power!

They show off my strength!

My hands my be little,

but they are my strength.

They make me a gymnast.

They make me push for more.

My hands may be little, and

though they may always be sore,

but they are my strength.

So remember when you shake my hand,

to shake it with unwavering faith.

For it takes a lot of courage & belief

in all that I do.

In all that's at stake. 

With my little hands working
tirelessly to be,

the gymnast that I dream of.

The gymnast I am suppose to be.

Though my hands may be little,

they are my strength.

My hands may be little,

but they are my strength.

They will not let me falter,

They will not let me fail.

Because even when that

Happens, they pull me back up,

and work harder next time around.

To be the better gymnast,

even though I've fallen down.

For with each tumble,

with each fall.

I am confident in knowing,

That though my hands may be little

But they are my strength.


Hands: Anneliesa, 7
Photography: Dani St. George