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Lovely Dutta Prusty

Tragedy

4.7  

Lovely Dutta Prusty

Tragedy

My Father's Loving Hands

My Father's Loving Hands

1 min
561


I still remember the warmth of those hands

As they held my tiny ones,

On our walks through crowded streets

And across zebra crossings.


I still recall the pat on my back

When my success thrilled him;

And the gentle rubbing of my soles

To ease me of a nasty cold.


I still hold the toys he made

When I was three or four;

And the long letters I received from him

On his days away from home.


I can still feel the blessings he gave

When his hands touched my head,

With a prayer on his lips

And tears in his eyes.


I can never forget the numbness of my feet

I can never forget the chill in my spine

When death held him in its tight embrace,

And rendered cold those loving hands

My father’s loving hands.


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