I believe we are both talking about the same man, you with your short, wonderful poem, me with a longer one. Both of ours voices a love for a man we will probably never see again. May I share my poem with you?
Withers’Grandma’s Hands snd your Grandpa’s Hands both picture the simplicity of human life at core. We use our hands to hold, caress and to grip. All we ever needed.
Wild Like the Flowers 
Beautiful ❣️
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Are you related to Margie and Steve Withers?
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Lovely
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Great analogy… Lovely poetry!
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This is LOVELY! Thank You and Cheers! 🙂
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Nice. Thanks.
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Absolutely brilliant!
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I believe we are both talking about the same man, you with your short, wonderful poem, me with a longer one. Both of ours voices a love for a man we will probably never see again. May I share my poem with you?
GRANDPA
© 2015 Barbara Grace lake
I don’t remember Gramps with hair
I don’t remember hair at all
Although he must have had some
Long before his head went bare
There was a picture once. Gram said
That it was Gramps. She didn’t know
How old it was but, damn, it showed
A lot of hair on grandpa’s head.
A thick and wavy lion’s mane,
Red copper colored like fall leaves
Start turning as first frost sets in
Before we lose them in the rain.
I didn’t like that picture much
It made Gramps look severe and stiff
As if a smile or anything
Might crack his face with just a touch
But there were times when gramps was stern
About my schoolwork, chores and such
Or if I caused my mother grief,
Then, still, he always said I’d learn.
I don’t remember hugs and stuff
My gramps was not that kind of man
He’d ever gently teach me things
Then cover up by acting gruff.
He taught me how a piece of wood
Could be ‘most anything I’d want
If I’d be patient, carve and sand
And finish building as I should
He taught me how someone who cares
No matter what their size might be
Would see their home was clean and snug
A proper shelter from life’s cares.
He taught me every day I grew
The way a man could show his love.
He’d let me fall–but never far,
He’d always be there, see me through.
My gramps. A lot of things are there
Reminding me I knew a man,
But only when he’d gotten old.
I don’t remember him with hair.
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Withers’Grandma’s Hands snd your Grandpa’s Hands both picture the simplicity of human life at core. We use our hands to hold, caress and to grip. All we ever needed.
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I loved my grandpas hands, he had a wood working shed behind his house. He taught me so much ♥️.
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So well writ, with a vividly livid illustration
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I love the way you present this, it’s beautiful!
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Beautiful!
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💙🎶🎵
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Love, love, love. The picture is so especially perfect for “Lean on Me” Bill Withers.
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