My Version of "My Father's Hands"

My father is the man

Who has loved me

All my life.

Since before I can remember

He's worked hard for his

Family and wife.

Though his body has been through

A day of pain and bombard,

When he played upon the piano

There were times when he played just as hard.

I loved to see

My father's hands

Zealously climb up and down

The keys.

In my heart

The more I wished

To be like him

And do all I could

Just to please.

"Why do you play the piano so much?"

"The more I play

The better I get

And the more fun it is

For every finger to touch."

My father's hands

Have taught me

To work hard and yet

To have fun.

So now when I play

the piano

And feel my fingers run.

I think of

my father's hands

and I am thankful.