Hands

Poem about a father and daughter.

His hands are rough like splintering wood
But soft with a father’s love.
He holds his little girl with the lightest, firm touch
Knowing one day he’ll have to give her away.
That little girl is his nice, summer day
His love for her is as bright as the August sun.
“Why do you hold me so tight, Daddy?”
“I love you, baby girl.”