These Hands

    

                                                           These Hands 
No longer confined in the womb,
the small, pink, pudgy fingers,
open wide.
Loving hands caress and
lend support as first steps
are taken.
Blocks fly across the room,
like birds scattering seed.
As the bat swings the
umpire shouts "out".
The pencil seeks the answer
guided by firm fingers.
Hands holding hands,
he slips the ring on her finger,
and with loving hands he
takes her in his arms.
Years on manual labor
has taken its toil.
Worn and wrinkled,
they cover his heart, remembering
a fallen hero.