Dad..In My Opinion

His hands are rough, cracked skin, fingers calloused. Much of the time,
he wears the same clothes, washed when needed, still the same
plaid flannel shirt, dungarees, stained,fabric worn in the places his hands rub, a hole where he slides his knife down into, a place for his wallet.
He has crinkles around his eyes. His eye brows are bushy and wiry, dark with gray intermingled.Dark blue,his eyes, like the lakes and ocean he fished in.
He moves a bit slower, now. To him there is no need for hurry, no one
to look forward to, except the pictures of the sweetness he has surrounding his chair.
I cannot say enough, how I love this man. This man that loved my mother, strength fading and fragile. I continue to desire a man that could love me, as he has always shown as love, protection, a fierce and passionate integrity for what is righteous.
He has told me you are out there. I have yet to see..see a man that "could love a woman as Christ loved the church and died for it.".not my words, though my hope.
I only have the visible proof of my Dad, how he did the best he could, for he loved her, his sweetness in strength fading..just love.

Raine Les 1/19/2010

Very nice

as always, thank you, Artie

that has a right good feel to it
your da sounds great!

He is wonderful..my mother was as well. Thank you.

I brought Tea and my Blankey,,,, I shall sit and bask in the
Beauty of this Man..

Sadie ,,, you radiate Love,,,

Kiss's

he has room..kiss.

what lovely memories to have