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My Father’s Hands

My Father’s Hands

They held me carefully, cautiously, shakily
When I was first placed within
But strongly, gently, lovingly
They’ve held me ever since then
Shielding me from harm
Leading me on my way
They taught me how to be strong myself
How to choose my own path every day
They showed me how to fix small things
How to make do when I don’t have enough
They helped me up when I fell down
And braced me when times got tough
My father’s hands are older, now
They tremble, sometimes, these days
But I remember how they got worn down
All the millions of different ways
Stained and scarred, rough they may be
But still, taking my hand in his,
I know those hands are gentle still
And they taught me what a real man is.

-July 4, 2014

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