Soft Hands

His family was poor,
He left school.
To work

Frail form,
tested daily

Skin calloused
Muscle built

He worked till it pained
And still forced himself harder
Numbing the pain

His hands grew dead
He could not feel the sense of touch

Not his wife’s kind hands
Or his daughter's soft hair

Working all the while,
He wondered, exactly what,
That smooth skin would feel like

Working harder still

Reviews

[GAP]

I can attest that a life spent working will distance one from their family. You lose touch. I think you've captured that reality quite well. It's a splinter of the cat's in the cradle syndrome. I wonder about replacing "pained" to hurt so the double use of pain* would be eliminated. There's not enough pain occurrences to use it as a device, in my opinion. You might consider, His hands grew dead No sense of touch, rather the he could not feel the sense of touch. I'm more of a minimalist and believe less is more, more often than not.