Wrinkles and lines spread
Across the tiny hand
Like his father
And father’s father
Gentle hands touch
Wood surface feeling the grain
Sensing direction, warp and cup
Like his great grand father
And fathers before him
Strong hands push
Gently guiding the small
Block plane. Smooth wood curls
Fall lightly to floor from old tool design
Common to great grandfather’s trade
Supple hand glides
Swiftly guiding trombone slide
Vibrato tones true, sonorous sound
New to fathers ears
Calloused hands press
Wound steel strings vibrate
Blue bass guitar hums
Not same old riff moves in
Tempos new to fathers
Steady hands move
Mouse from screen to
Screen, small then detail
Unlike anything known nor
Seen by fathers before
Extended hands flex
Out and clench back
Not understanding pain
Gasping for breath
Father in agony
Tiny hand grasp
Wrapping around
Wrinkled little finger
Miniature muscles encircle
His father’s heart
April 6, 2006
John R. Harsha
I'm glad you posted this...it's a great poem and shows how much your dad thought of you! It's a great tribute to your dad.
ReplyDeleteThanks! I still want to get it with a picture of hands in the background. Shoul get someone to photograph mine probably.
ReplyDelete