***
HIS HANDS
His hands are only in my memory, now
I see them in my mind’s eye, and how
I held them in my own, on that last day.
Strong and rough, yet the look
In his eyes, meeting great-grandkids, it took
His breath away.
Watching his hands, so much like my own,
As schoolwork was explained at home;
The times our fears he’d allay.
The clean smell of his lotion, his soap, and his hope,
He used to scrub the work-a-day toil, and to cope
With his daughter’s begging to play.
My mother in heaven, and we girls that last day,
Clasped our hands, with him… we did pray.
Now, I see my hands, and with me he’ll always be near.
Let the memories of his hands come, to always hold dear…
This way.
***
© 2016
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For dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics – with host Mish…”Can You Give Me a Hand”…prompt word = Hands
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Thanks for visiting! Peace }I{
teleportingweena 