His Hands Poem by samuel faye

sitting beside me, close as could be
shoulder to shoulder he leaned into me
 
just a bit taller than I, with head tilted
he picked my hand up in his and I wilted
 
sturdy and capable hands, looking strong
palm wide and filled out with fingers so long
 
wrapping my fingers laced between his own
he turned mine in his, thoughts in his face were shown
 
one by one, his fingers pulled free from mine
and enveloped my fist which fit in his fine
 
and I looked slightly over, and up to the right
as I watched his lips curve into a smile so bright
 
then leaning his head lower onto my shoulder
looking at my hand in his it was clear he was older
 
and a lump in my throat came and tears began welling
while I looked at my son with my heart quickly swelling
 
eyes so like mine turned and looked in my face
as I took in that moment, memorized that place
 
he's growing up fast but the growing pains linger
in my heart and my soul, while linked finger to finger
 
and I smile thru my tears as he slowly lets go
more than his eyes and his hands let me know
 
this boy quickly turning, becoming a man
will always carry his mother's heart in his hands