Sunday, June 17, 2012

Hands


 
My Hand Grows with Me, Holding who I Am

As a child my small hand can hold baseball, a football
Just the importance of the sport it’s self, learning the rules and techniques
Not knowing the importance or memories my small hand can only the sport
As a grow older, I become bigger, so does my hand
Now a freshman in high school my hand holds the sports and the importance
Knowing my friends are those with me every day
All the sweat blood and tears means something now
The football isn’t just a sport but makes me think of places
The weight room, field, and blacktop of PHS

The volleyball doesn’t just mean being on the court
It’s the emotional value I play with in the game
Knowing that these places will always mean something
A senior in high school
My hand now is the largest it ever has been
Holding not just the ball, or the importance, but the memories
I knew these sports would always mean something
Now I know every reason why
I will remember every game, every moment I pushed to be better
I now know that all the pushing of myself, the laughing, joking, fighting
Is why I have become the man I am today
My hand is big enough now I hold everything I know in it
And I’ll grasp it tight, and never let go.


 This was written by my son Oliver.

1 comment:

Ruth Wilson said...

Love it! Good job . . .