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Gnarled Old Hands

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His gnarled old hands are folded now,

Resting in his repose;

But those old hands worked very hard

In the dutiful life he chose.

 As we grew older, us together,

Side by side in growing peace,

Aches, and pains and worry

Never caused those hands to cease.

 Now they are still forever

And I’ll feel their touch no more,

And the weight in my heart is heavier

Than it’s ever been before.

 Dear God, let him remember

I will join him very soon,

And let him come to meet me,

Be it morning, night or noon;

 And I shall race to meet him

When I leave old bones behind

And reach out for that dear, gnarled hand

Whose touch was ever kind.

 B. Killebrew

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