His gentle Caring Hands

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His Hands

Over the course of time we encounter many feats of greatest design

They are very close in comparison to the tallest of tallest buildings

We also encounter feats in which are small like a lady bug


In either case, it weighs on our mind within uncertain of the outcome

In these time we rely on the touch of the blanket of hope

Reassuring us with a just a slide of hand


Adrenaline flows through our veins as if the gates had been opened

A premonition occurs in our brain that we will prevail without haste

We stand facing this feat and overcome it


At night as I lie in the darkness staring at what surrounds me

A feeling ripples through my body, a tear begins to fall

Something brushes my shoulder as to say “I am here”


Dried faced and tired I seal my eyes to release my wakefulness

For I know I am protected from all that is unfortunate

I am never alone in my alertness, nor slumber


His touch is equal to the softness of a baby’s bottom

To see the hands that possesses this touch

You would not believe it is possible


Unkind markings from an afflicted past

No rest for these hands at any time

Age do they not, always there reaching out


I will always be happy to have know these hands

Never forgetting the strength they forecast

The evidence of neither selflessness nor warmth they bring forth

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