Daddy's Shoes

Two shoes stood upon the stair,
the heels worn down from toil...
emptied of his active feet,
and stained, from grass and soil.
Two tiny feet, so bare and pink...
will patter to the pair
of Daddy's shoes, which lie in wait...
in silent hope and prayer;
that Baby's feet will find their way
to step inside two shoes,
that walked the floor and kicked the ball
and blocked each fall and bruise.
If we could walk, for just one day
in shoes our Fathers wore...
supporting every wish and dream,
his youthful heart worked for...
we'd learn to feel, where textbooks fail
to teach Life's strong foothold...
Our Fathers bronzed our baby shoes---
their hearts have earned the gold.

by Rusti
who graciously gave me permission to use it.
You can visit her homepage here
Please do not copy without her consent.

Note from GranGran: the little sweetie to the left is my oldest son, Scott -- about 30 years ago. When I read the poem, I immediately remembered this picture.
Such a sweet son...and now he's a wonderful daddy.

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"Daddy's Hands"

I remember Daddy's hands,
Folded silently in prayer.
And reaching out to hold me,
When I had a nightmare.

You could read quite a story,
In the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry,
Had left their mark behind.

I remember Daddy's hands,
How they held my mama tight.
And patted my back for something,
That I'd done right.

There are things I've forgotten,
That I loved about that man.
But I'll always remember the love,
In Daddy's hands.

Daddy's hands were soft and kind,
When I was crying.
Daddy's hands weren't always gentle,
But I've come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy's hands.