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