A Father's Hands

His hands were strong and steady,
built for work and built for care,
the kind of hands that fixed what's broken
and were always, always there.

They held us when the world seemed vast,
they guided us along the way.
They taught us how to build and mend,
and face each coming day.

His voice was not always the loudest,
his praise was sometimes quietly said,
but in every act of quiet labour
his boundless love was read.

He showed us strength was not in shouting
but in standing firm and true,
in getting up each morning
and in seeing the day through.

Now those hands are finally resting
from a lifetime's honest toil.
The man who built so much for us
returns unto the soil.

But everything he fashioned—
every lesson, every stand—
lives on in us, his legacy,
still guided by his hand.