Grandpa's Hands ~ A Poem inspired by Bill Withers

Grandpa's hands raised in church on Sunday morning. Grandpa's hands holds another when praying, drops a dollar in red kettles, can hold a tender petal, knows when not to meddle. Grandpa's hands.

Grandpa's hands used to issue out a warning. He'd say, "Baby don't you climb that high, might fall down from the sky". "Might be bad boys at that dance; don't go wearing those tight pants". Grandpa's hands.

Grandpa's hands held a brand new baby. Grandpa's hands get so dry and crackly; get greased up with corn husker's cream. Always smell so soft and clean. Grandpa's hands.

 Grandpa's hands turned the velum page with care, underlined and notes everywhere. Used to whisper in the ear, "I'm your grandpa and I care; put your life in Jesus care, he's the answer anywhere. Grandpa's hands.

Grandpa's hands used to write me letters; drive to see me in any weather; buy me gifts from any store. Life is not like it was before. I don't have Grandpa anymore. 

When I get to Heaven's door, I will look for the one I adore. Grandpa's hands. 


Written by me (Rebecca Howell Gibson) to honor Donal Howell Sr. (Aug. 1928 ~ April 1997)
and Thomas Gibson Sr. (Oct 1928 ~ still alive and kicking)
Inspired by a song written by Bill Withers ~ Grandma's Hands