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DADDY'S HANDS
I remember Daddy's hands folded silently in prayer,
And reaching out to hold me when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.
I remember Daddy's hands,
How they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back for something I'd done right.
There are things I've forgotten
that I loved about that man,
But I'll always remember the love in Daddy's hands.
Daddy's hands, were soft and kind when I was crying.
Daddy's hands, were hard as steel when I'd done wrong.
Daddy's hands weren't always gentle,
But I've come to understand,
There was always love in Daddy's hands.
I remember Daddy's hands working till they bled,
Sacrificed unselfishly just to keep us all fed.
If I could do things over, I'd live my life again,
And never take for granted the love in Daddy's hands.
~ Holly Dunn ~
"Your profession is not what brings home your paycheck. Your profession is what you were put on earth to do with such passion and such intensity that it becomes spiritual in calling."
Vincent Van Gogh
Fashion in the U.S. during the late 1950s had interesting restrictions. Women's trousers usually had side fastenings, as front zippers for women were considered "naughty."
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