At dverse Kim has asked us to write poem about something in us ~ body or trait ~ that was evident in either parent.
Whipcord veins
layered over
bones,
layered under
cracked
parchment skin.
Thin vice-grip
fingers, almost
perfect nails.
I have your
tiny gold
wristwatch,
engraved
cigarette case,
your family
photo albums,
your hands.
Most of all
your hands.
welshstream 
Hi Paul! The hands give a lot away and they are inherited. I have the hands of my mum and grandmother – older-looking than the rest of me, or so I’ve been told! I love the expression ‘whipcord veins’ and the repetition of hands, like they’re patting the words into place. :).
I love the hands… including even the watch… and I love how you address the poem directly to your father… excellent take…
My mum actually Bjorn …..but you had a 50% chance of getting it right 😉
🙂 somehow I have easier to find my father in myself…
The “whip cord veins”, speaks to me of powerful, dexterous hands. That and the thin vice like fingers
Wow. This is really gorgeous. I just keep reading it over and over; I’m mesmerized.
I read it as being to your mom … because of the fingernails and the small wristwatch.
I love the detailed description of her/your hands!
I was attracted to my husbands hands when I first met him… among other things 🙂
I love the ‘whip cord veins’ description of her and your hands.
This is such a beautiful piece of poetry. I liked it all it was so wistful in its rememberences.
The hands, hanging on. Good poem.