Hands of a Father

Hands, once soft and new, 

Gained lines and scars, a firm testament to the passing of time

Hands that comforted, built a swing ever-high

Taught me to touch the clouds, reach the sky

Hands that wipe away my tears,

Calm my tall, aching fears

Hands that taught me to make my own way
To chase the elusive dreams of yesterday

Hands that built a nest for my head to lay

May change, gain lines or go grey

Yet those hands still touch my cheek as I let out a grateful cry

For the hands of a father, eternally spry.

written by Zoe