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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=543625" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Son Reaches For His Father's Hand</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A Son Reaches For His Father's Hand </div><div style="margin:10px 0">As they walk, <br>A son reaches <br>for his father's hand, <br>barely able to brush his fingertips.<br>Only sometime later, <br>the father wraps his fingers<br>around his son's <br>fallen hand.<br> <br>The son looks into his father's eyes.<br>The father looks down, <br>a tear is heard<br>as it falls onto the clay soil.<br> <br>The son tries hard <br>to move his legs fast, <br>to follow each of his father's strides.<br>The father looks down, <br>finally he adjusts his gait.<br>His son relieved, <br>breathes normally once more, <br>as he gratefully finds his pace.<br> <br>At the woods' edge <br>the father chooses the path to the left.<br>Soon they are out of sight.<br> <br>They see tall trees, fallen trees, rocks, mushrooms, <br>one beaver, two fawns, <br>three ponds with frogs and the like.<br>The son feels both excited and at peace<br>as they start on one of the trails back.<br>But this time the son gets to choose, <br>left or right. <br> <br>During the entire walk<br>through serenity, <br>neither spoke.<br> <br>They came to the grassland, <br>no longer just father and son, <br>as they had begun. <br>They returned <br>forever<br>spliced into one.<br> <br>A simple walk in the woods, <br>by themselves in nature's blessed bosom, <br>can quitely re-compose <br>the fragmenting noises of daily life<br>into a largo of deepening love.<br> <br>A moment of simplicity <br>with one of our own, <br>can dissove life's duplicity-<br>denying the frenetic pursuit<br>of the transient.  <br>The sowing of seeds of love and loyalty, <br>in the most fragile, fertile of grounds, <br>creates children as Nature's true royalty.<br>It is their blessed spirits <br>which rest softly<br>on the breast of Mother Nature.<br> <br>The years elapse, the child<br>now a father, takes his daughter<br>for a walk in the woods.<br>Her age, about the same <br>as his back then.<br>He asks her which way she would <br>like to go.<br>She points to the right. <br> <br>Moments pass, <br>soon they are part of the woods.<br>The father reaches down, <br>embraces her tiny hand.<br>She squeezes, then sort of kneeds his.<br> <br>They see into each others' eyes.<br>She and he reach for each other.<br>He lifts her to his chest <br>as she wraps her arms <br>tightly around his neck.<br> <br>The sparrows, look down, <br>then turning skyward, sing smiling.<br>The surrounding peacefulness<br>whispers itself <br>into father and daughter, <br>each of them forever together, <br>with mitered hearts.<br> </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mike August 04/12/2009</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mike+August">Mike August</a><div class=q>
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As they walk, 
A son reaches 
for his father's hand, 
barely able to brush his fingertips.
Only sometime later, 
the father wraps his fingers
around his son's 
fallen hand.
 
The son looks into his father's ey..."></div>
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