On These Hands

I’ve got everything but time on these hands
Mud, sweat, and tears
Blood
Dirt
A few wasted years
Cardboard cuts and smudged ink notes
Spilled guts and slit throats
Whiskey and gin
Smoke and sin

Responsibility
A new theme to my melody
A baby boy drifts back to sleep
Sing sweet
Breath in, dream deep
These hands are yours to keep

Keep steady now
Ready now
Conquer the world somehow
Pray God will keep wind in these pale, pale sails
Broke like fingernails
Calloused tips from countless chords and scales
As a craft the song of me
At least what I wish to be
Note by tattered note in key
She kisses each one quick and sets them free

A wedding band
Her steady hand
A promise never to be alone again
Pray God our love to keep
As she sings me back to sleep
With her eyes
And I’ve got everything but time
On these hands

But I’m not through yet

The sun has yet to set.

G.Y. Haney, 2010