Hands of time

Another Poem From My past

Note the corny play on the sands of time cliche, I was so proud of myself when I thought up this title.

The Hands of Time

I remember him well, His strong hands holding me, His deep voice lulling me to sleep, The promise of the world in his eyes, I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The Hands of my protector

I remember him well, His strong hands showing me what I failed to see before, His deep voice breaking as he told me how much it hurt him more than me, The hint of a tear in his eyes, I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my discipliner


I remember him, His strong hands holding me back from what I needed to do, His deep voice yelling driving me to the brink of madness, The hurt that came crawling out of his eyes, I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my jailer

I remember him well, His Strong hands weathered in the winds of times, His deep voice laughing at the witty remarks I made, His eyes reflecting knowledge years beyond my reach, I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my guide.

I remember him well, His strong hand trembling as he clung to life, His deep voice raspy as he strained to speak, The tears in his eyes that had long been dried out, I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my Hero.