My Fumbling Hands-A Poem About Learning Sign Language
My fumbling hands are going to be the death of me.
You see I need them to communicate with my baby.
He uses sign language to say what you and I speak.
So I have to learn it and learn it quick.
With my fumbling hands going to and fro
Not sure which way to go
I get so confused at times
So much so that I have to stop and rewind
He seems to catch on so fast
He learns it once and it is there to last.
I forget one sign to the next
I hope there is not going to be a test.
Sometimes he looks at me like I am a dummy
Then I realize that was not the sign for shoe but mommy
He laughs at my mistake
But then shows me which sign to make
My fumbling hands are going to be the death of me
Or maybe the death of the whole family
We are learning it for his sake
But I have to admit that I would much rather play with a rake
Then have to learn all of the little signs
Which one for green? Is that for bee hive?
I know someday it will come with such ease
But until then my fumbling hands are going to be the death of me.
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