For My Father

How to thank the hands,

full of calluses and tired pain,

For their gentleness and gains.

How to thank the arms,

thick with muscle and age,

for the strength which they gave.

To the shoulders,

who carried more than Atlas,

but never held a shred of malice.

But above all,

To the eyes.

To the eyes that glistened with tired pride.

Eyes I will always carry with me by my side.