A father’s hands
Punished by life
Yet somehow gentle
Holding our world
Worn but strong
Their hands could
When ours couldn’t
Saving us often
Scarred and calloused
Shaped by circumstance
Never complaining
They just do the job
When duty calls
They lean in
Forward into peril
With unwavering calm
Right is right
Renouncing wrongs
A character of confidence
Drenched in dignity
Unstated power
Soft yet steely
Quiet gallantry
Guarding virtue
Never triumphant
Yet deservedly so
Always there
Devoted ’til the end
They leave too soon
A sudden void
The foundation heaves
Beneath our citadel
Shaken we stumble
Yet their spirit returns
To steady us once more
Handing the world to us