Nancy L. Meek

DADDY’S HANDS

Castles on the beach
Made with buckets full of sand
And tiny sandy fingers
Cupped inside my daddy’s hands

Slipping down the slide
My daddy was so tall
He held my hand the whole way down
Afraid that I might fall

Running to the swings
Yelling, Push me, Daddy, please
He placed my hands upon the chains
And gave a little squeeze

Crayons on the floor
Trying to stay within the line
My sympathetic daddy
Wrapped his fingers around mine

Hands on handlebars
Learning to ride my bike
Daddy’s hands were awfully strong
I peddled as he hiked

Castles on the beach
Washed away by rushing tide
But memories can’t be washed away
Despite the hands of time

Daddy’s hands on mine
Too soon were moved away
Still, I’ll always feel them there
Forever and a day…

Author’s Note: My father died when I was sixteen. I wanted to capture some of the memories I had of him when I was growing up