Large Hands
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Walter Yates was like a Father to me. I miss him greatly!
At six foot four, and an eighth of a ton,
A gentle giant of a man, he was;
Father to three, and himself a fine son,
Devoted husband to Jean, without pause.
Phone man, painter, in ocean liners he cruised,
Accompanied by family and friends;
Sweet song in his heart, but never the blues,
Wisdom and patience, in life his clear lens.
He loved a recipe, and showing concern,
With actions, like always asking about you;
His life well balanced, his legacy earned,
Sharing his Jesus—the Gospel's Good News!
Taking time for grandkids, he humbly shared,
Both time and his money, an open book;
Bouncing upon knees, for great grands he cared,
Teaching scriptures, over breakfast he’d cooked.
Eighty-two years was his Lord’s master plan,
Fifty-eight to a soulmate, solemnly wed;
What mattered most, to this giver of men,
Was baking and breaking, life’s finest bread.
A Soldier whose honor, served us all well,
Humbly he loved, these United States;
His strong Christian faith, now clear as a bell,
His given name, you ask? Twas—Walter Yates!
(Rest in Peace Dear Friend. We miss you, sir!)
Copyright © Michael Wegman | Year Posted 2015
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