My father’s hands are shaky now,
But they diligently share with me his thoughts
His scribbles betray the years passed, no longer the steady hand of youth
But the glory of these hands is in their aged shakes and wrinkles
These are the hands that dressed him each morning for work
Spending hours away from the family to provide
These are the hands that fixed the broken heater so we could stay warm
And the hands that mowed the lawn so I could play
These hands did not provide a mother’s touch, but
They cared for me in their own way
These hands protected, provided, and guided
These hands shaped the man I am today
My father’s hands are shaky now, but that’s okay
My father’s hands are blessed
