Hands

His hands
When I was young
Were so large and powerful.
“My daddy is the strongest man
In the whole world!”
I would say.
He is a hard working man
And his hands are proof.
Scarred and torn
With years of
Joy and sorrow.
Daddy’s hands grew mean
As I grew older.
Those hands would
Tear, break, and bleed
But never did he complain.
Now as I watch him
Hold his granddaughter
With much tenderness,
I realize what
What I have known my entire life.
Daddy’s hands are not mean at all.
When I start to think way back
It was Daddy’s gentle hands
That picked me up when I fell down.
His hands created those
Piggy tails I used to love so much
Daddy’s hands rubbed my tummy
When I didn’t feel good
It was Daddy’s hands
That tickled me the most
And it is those gentle,
Loving days
We both miss
The most.

Christina Royer