My Grandfathers Hands

Ever since I took my first breath, I've had my grandfathers hands
They were the hands that shaped a nation, that held their country up when it was crumbling down
The hands that fought off and struck fear into enemies that crossed paths with them
The hands that laboured hard from early morning till late in the night
The strong hands that could work under harsh conditions and get the job done right every time
They were the hands that cradled my head as I began to grow
The hands that pushed me along when taught to ride a bike
The hands that clapped for me on many occasions, no matter how big or small
They were the hands that could build, lift, and shape all sorts of contraptions
Those strong hands, calloused and withered, lay at rest as we say our beloved farewells
Sculpting my entire life, I will forever be engulfed in this mould of my grandfathers hands.