My poetry skills are limited. Who am I kidding? They’re practically non-existent. But somewhere around 5am this morning, this came to me. And while it may not win any awards, I hope it shows the great love and respect I have for my dad.
Hands scarred and rough from decades of hard work:
Twisting bolts, lifting engines, replacing belts
While grease, oil and other liquids stained the skin.
Years of taking care of a home, fixing things needing repair;
Mowing, plowing, and planting vegetables and flowers;
Always, tending to the safety of family with those hands.
From hugging his mother, to saluting his sergeant,
Wearing a ring that symbolized his heart’s desire,
He’s held his babies; applauded their accomplishments as they grew;
And guided and protected them through the stages of their lives.
He’s repeated the process with grandchildren;
And now again with great-grandchildren.
Those scarred hands show the warmth, the love, the life
of a man of substance, of integrity, of loyalty.
My daddy’s scarred hands are love;
And they are loved.
© 2013 Rhonda Hopkins
Happy Father’s Day, daddy! I love you!
Have you ever written a poem for your dad? Please feel free to share it in the comments or just tell us all the ways your dad is special.
Happy Father’s Day to all you wonderful father’s out there. I hope you each have an awesome day filled with love and family.