My Fathers Hands
MY FATHERS HANDS
He the man known as father, worked a common man's labor,
Never did this soul complain, even as his last breath inhaled,
On earth.
Daddy's little girl was I, the apple of eye, one might say,
The sparkles pride that lit up his spirit and made the pain
Of hardship melt away.
Calloused, and blistered, he earned every marks blemish,
Strength's scares were worn in my fathers hands.
Deeply engraved within the living embodiment,
Of truth and honor's pride, I'll carry him within me
For the rest of my life.
This mountain of a man I called dad, placed these
Tiny feet upon the right path, and even when I did
Stray he stepped in and led this wayward women
Back.
In heaven's grace he'll be watching over me,
Always and someday no doubt, we embrace once
More, and those loving hands will lovely hold this
Child now grow, and I'll know again his eternal warmth.
In blessing's grace, may the angels watch over thee,
Until we meet again, on the distant shores of Nirvana.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
CONTEST WITH THESE HANDS
12-20-2013
VISUAL #5
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