Sunday, March 11, 2012

He Has His Father's Hands

Rough and worn by
Weather and work:
Hoeing a row,
Turning a tool,
Lifting a heavy load.
Strong enough to hold it together
The bottom falls out,
A pipe breaks, 
Life gives need to a pick me up.
Gently enough for:
A tender touch,
Calming a frightened soul,
Mending a wounded being.
In the blink of an eye
The little boy I use to know
Has grown in to a youth
Who has his father's hands.

1 comment:

Michelle said...

Just wanted to let you know I am having a give away this week.