My Father's Hand Poem by gerard rochford

I like to wear a band around my wrist,
an amulet of copper, links of bling,
a hippy weave of cotton or dried grass.

Reminds me of a change my father made
as I grew up from toddler to walker;
crossing the road he stops holding my hand
and wraps his finger and thumb around my wrist.

My bracelet now is like the brag of a teenager leaving home
and flashing his cell-phone where father's number sleeps.
I wear my father's hand around my wrist.