Hands

Sometimes when thinking I look down at my paws.

I see an old pair of hands that were my grandpa’s

I look once at them and then do a double take

Wishing I could create the things he could make

He could pick up a few scraps of wood

And then make things I never could

Christmas time there would always be

Things he made under our tree

They were always sturdy and strong

Things kids could play with all year long

In my mind I can still see them today

Though that was long ago and far away

Sometimes I wish that I could be

A grandpa near as wonderful as he