Journal ACK!!'s Journal: The Hands
The hands
I remember the hands
most of all
the gnarled tools
with lines running
through them like
the life lines
of a tree each mark
a passing of years
and memories
strong things held
clenched with fire
of a life clutched
tight and hard
like the knuckles
of that hand covered
in casual calluses
of well-earned labor
and I remember holding
them with all the futility
of my wasted youth and
thinking that I would
be lucky to hold my
son with hands like that.
The Hands More Login
The Hands
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