My Father’s Hands Glad

At the age of five, I was taking on the world
Every day was a reckless adventure unfurled
Never gave much thought to any consequence
When I was testing my boundaries
And peeking through the fence
Then the time would come as it always did
When I'd outstep the stride of a five-year-old kid
And it would crumble like a castle of sand
And I'd go running to my father's hands

My father's hands
Could fix anything in my world
If it all lay in pieces
Without a hope or a prayer
It was never beyond the loving repair
Of my father's hands

Looking back, I can only admire
The things he could do with patience and pliers
As trivial as broken playthings could be
He could sense it was the end of the world for me
From broomstick horses and bent handlebars
To the mechanical nightmare of my first car
If it crumbled like a castle of sand
I knew the magic in my father's hands