Calloused hands are beautiful

They came from labors of love

Mud-caked boots and trousers prefered

Finer than runway garb

The sweat of humanitarian work

Perfumes the nostrils of want

The company of village elders

Unable to speak my tongue

Our smiles, laughs and futile attempts

Are received with friendship arms

Surrounded with smiling children

My heart is belongs to them

 

 

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