Grandpa\'s hands

Grandpa's hands, weathered and wise,
Tell a story of years gone by.
With calloused palms and knuckles rough,
They carried the weight of life's tough stuff.

In his hands, strength would always reside,
Guiding us through the darkest tide.
They held us high when we were small,
Comforting us, never let us fall.

With those hands, he built a home,
Providing shelter when we felt alone.
They fixed broken toys with utmost care,
Teaching us that love is always there.

Grandpa's hands, weathered and strong,
Worked tirelessly, all day long.
They tilled the soil, sowed seeds of hope,
Nurturing gardens, helping dreams to grow.

And those hands, they knew how to play,
Creating melodies upon keys they'd sway.
From piano tunes to stories told,
He inspired us to be brave and bold.

In those hands, a lifetime of joy and pain,
Etched deeply like patterns in a grain.
They carried burdens, lifted souls,
Never giving up, always reaching goals.

Grandpa's hands, now aged and frail,
Still hold memories that will never pale.
Like a compass, they guided our way,
Helping us find light in every gray.

For even if those hands are no longer here,
Their warmth and love will always be near.
Grandpa's hands, forever they'll reside,
In our hearts, a lasting, cherished guide.