THE LOVE IN HIS HANDS

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His hands have built, his hands have torn,
Yet in them, love has long been worn.
Through every touch, through every deed,
His love's a quiet, endless seed.

With every stroke, with every care,
His love is nurtured, and forever shared.
In every gesture, in every act,
His love's a presence, that forever attracts.

Through calloused skin, through worn-out hands,
His love shines bright, like a beacon in the lands.
A love that's patient, a love that's kind,
A love that's rooted, forever intertwined.

         -CORDELIA

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