Magic Hands Poem by Harley Roth
Magic Hands
A car is broken; and a fence is falling.
Your no longer there to help, so tears are falling and everybody’s crying.
Trains are your things.
Your little grandchildren come to play; with your great big train set.
That you built with your talented hands.
Your stories were great, and you always had a way with words.
Your heart always full of love and now your away,
Way up high.
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8/6/2026 1:48:08 AM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
This reminds me of my great Grandfather. He used to work on the railroads and there is a picture of him holding me as a baby on the tracks with two huge trains. It makes me happy.