My hands - are my Dad's hands,

I can see the dirt and toil,

Clinging, thrusting, crust of soil,

I trust, you keep me whole.

My hands - are my Dad's hands,

And a whole lot more is mine,

Times - i regret the time,

Not spent - all the words untold.

My unwon, undone - hands are mine,

The blaming, remains of old,

Left in the dust, and rust,

While we live on - we must!

My hands are my boy's hands,

Break the bonds, the bands,

That hold the frown, upside down,

And means to be much better.

My hands are my Dad's hands,

My hands are my own,

My hands are your hands,

And your hands your own.

His hands are my hands,

We grow and grow on, long,

All my hard won hurts,

Are not mine - but his alone.

Its not the size of the dog,

In the fight, that bites,

He rights, the wrong of the dog,

And His might wins the day.

My hands are his hands,

And his hands hammered home,

The lessons of love untold,

Hold my hand and write my song,

Give me reasons to go on,

Poems to tell, places to belong......