Hands

My hearts greatest desire The one thing that I miss Would you believe, is a pair of hands Hands that were rough and calloused They had worked for all they had Hands that smelled of tar and asphalt Honest deeds and long hours Hands that folded in prayer along with mine They knew we were loved Hands that held me close when I was scared Sometimes we need to cry Hands that held me up to a whiskered face To give kisses and whisper secrets Hands that picked me up when I fell Ever so diligent, caring Hands that reminded me I was safe They were never far away Well look, I have fallen and I’m hurt But those hands don’t pick me up They’re gone, they’ve left, and I’m alone I pick myself up Hands that have been replaced By others, but mostly my own