These Hands

As I sat idly lounging on a park bench,
an older gentleman came and rested next to me.
His face is furrowed, an acquaintance to the years.
Muscles are flacid, and bones were brittle.

Paying no more heed, I turn back to my lounging
Leaving him to his futile war with time
and to his birds, which he fed crumbs to.
The coos of delight for the old man's generosity
Until he looked up, and with his frail voice,
said the one thing that changed the course of my life.

"You can tell the heart of a man", he said.
"By the appearance of his hands".
"These hands have fought in wars, and saved lives".
"These hands have held both sons and daughters".
"These hands have cured the sick, and helped the meek".
"These hands have led the multitudes in song".
"These hands have blessed souls".
"These hands have saved sinners".
"These hands have held a dying man".

With my hands, I held my head and wept.
Knowing that my simple life went squandered.
Realizing my truancy has led me to idleness

When I looked back up to express my regret and sorrow,
the old man had vanished.
Leaving a note that says I love you.