I have hands like my dad,
Shaking with others every day,
They do the talking for him,
Scribbling with a pen,
Behind a desk,
Typing daily,
I have hands like my dad,
Dark in color,
Veins solid like rivers,
Smooth skin on outstretched fingers,
Nice clean polished nails,
Knuckles, high and proud,
Palms that a fortune teller could read ever so clearly,
I have hands like my dad,
Swinging a golf club at the beat of a heart,
Swinging a bat in the sand,
Plunging into water and stroking forward,
Oily and greasy from oil in a car,
Carving meat with a chuckle,
Turning a piece of chicken on the barbeque,
I have hands like my dad,
Hand in hand walking down the coast,
Hands slithering down my stomach tickling every inch,
Playing “monster” with claws
Giving me a high-five as I score a basket,
Clapping ever so loudly at my games,
I have hands like my dad,
With the way he treats me,
And how I want to treat my kids,
With only my hands,
I have hands like my dad.