06-14-2014, 09:12 PM
Hands of Time
fim 6/13/14
Old wrinkled fingers stretched and curled
tenderly grasping the tiny toddler’s hand,
but the tell was the sparkle that was ever-so evident
in the eyes of the elderly man.
As my father and son walked hand in hand
my heart swelled with overwhelming joy,
I was certain I was watching how the man who raised me
cherished me as a little boy.
My memory can’t remember back that far,
though I know he loved me throughout his life,
I’d like to think I provided him with the joy
that I can now see in his eyes.
A father is a care-giver who is forever imprinted
on the hearts and minds of the children he raised,
a person who lives beyond the number of his years
in stories in which he is praised.
fim 6/13/14
Old wrinkled fingers stretched and curled
tenderly grasping the tiny toddler’s hand,
but the tell was the sparkle that was ever-so evident
in the eyes of the elderly man.
As my father and son walked hand in hand
my heart swelled with overwhelming joy,
I was certain I was watching how the man who raised me
cherished me as a little boy.
My memory can’t remember back that far,
though I know he loved me throughout his life,
I’d like to think I provided him with the joy
that I can now see in his eyes.
A father is a care-giver who is forever imprinted
on the hearts and minds of the children he raised,
a person who lives beyond the number of his years
in stories in which he is praised.