My Dad

The hands that I through 
Could do everything,
Can barely do anything now.

The hands that were so
Hard and callus
Now are soft and weak.

The fine touch of the fingers,
That once taught me how to tie a hook and 
To squeeze the trigger of a rifle,
Now has no feelings.

The hands that taught me so much
Are frail now.

The arms that once carried me,
When I couldn't go on,
Can carry very little now.

The legs that once climbed the hills and 
Stayed in step with our hunting dogs, 
Can hardly climb the steps now.

The feet, 
Who's tracks I stepped in,
Now ache and burn and
Can barely walk.

The eyes that once could see for miles
Can hardly see his hands now.

The sunburn face that was full of charter lines
Now has grown pail and slack .

The heart
That loves me
Still beats strong and
Although I have grown children of my own
He still sees me as his 'little boy'.  

The times we had I'll never forget,
All the early morning hunts,
The times we went fishing.
The days of riding the tractor together.
The days of being young and
Him being able to do everything.

To you DAD,
Thanks for all you've done for me.
With all my Love.

William Lee
Sept. 1, 2003