Hands

It's Father's Day tomorrow and I have been unsurprisingly thinking about my Dad again.

Dad's hands were very special (obviously the rest of him was quite nice too). Mum apparently "fell for his hands". They were always soft, and beautifully proportioned (unlike Mums). Right into adulthood I would hold Dad's hands when we were out and about. Mum on one side of Dad, yours truly on t'other. I spent many hours holding his hand in various ICU units over the years, and held his still warm hands just after he died as I said goodbye. So I wrote a little poem I have dedicated to Daddy's lovely hands. It's not perfect but it pleases me so I shall share it with you.

Sending Father's Day wishes to Dads who are still here with us in this life (including my lovely Father in Law David and my God-father Kenneth) and those who are already with their Heavenly Father.

The long slender fingers of hands

that hold their perfect fit, firmly,

holding close.

The gentle grip of hands, hold a baby

hold safely, and nervously, new father

rocking his daughter.

The secure hands that hold an evening pipe

and tap down the baccy, holding the bowl

smoking slowly.

The hand that grips his daughter's tightly

as he walks her down the aisle to wed

shaking gently.

The hands that hold aloft the Host,

Raised in blessing, anoiting with oil,

sharing peace.

The hands his daughter strokes gently,

Kisses the bruising and swelling

wounding needle.

The hands awaiting one last kiss,

Mother caresses, daughter holds them,

kissing goodbye.