The Callous Hand

by K.W.Ferguson - Not entered

K.W.Ferguson
39 Charlbrook Ave
Barrie ON CANADA
L4M 2Y6
(705)-739-8801
e-mail:golding@bconnex.net



"  The Callous Hand "

I saw the callous hand,
But, not as that of man.
Pendulous, yet, not as blossoms grow.
Not as the petals of them,
So bathed in dew of dawn.
Nor as the colour of them,
Yet, blushed before the brawn.
And I held the callous hand,
But, not that I could stand,
Intrepid, as a lion of a man.
Not as the one pretending,
On my sleeve there was a dove,
Nor the son of one defending
Only that which is his love.
And all that I can see,
Now, that the garden's full of weeds,
Is a patch of land where promise once ran free.
And all I that I can be,
Now, that you've washed your hands of me,
Is an iron fist inside a velvet glove.


Reason for writing:

    I could never get throught to my Father. Something that many men today blame for a portion of failure in life    

Birth sign: Not entered
Date created: 1996-04-16 19:27:18
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:38:46
Poem ID: 44842

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