Memoirs of a Loved One

I know a special pair of hands,

With skin as white as snow,

A brother's part a father's role,

All played within a row,

The hands, though held the scars of time,

Could work such miracles,

They make the hardest of a task,

Seem nonetheless so simple,

These precious hands played many roles,

A teacher and a driver,

They fry and steam and knead the dough,

And fix just like MacGyver,

But one day on their owner's chest,

They clutched and then let go,

A rescue team came to the scene,

To fix a broken soul,

The jolts could not wake up the hands,

They laid so very still,

Another pair he knew too well,

Grasped on to them until, 

The one with the familiar hands,

Screamed out with all her might:

"Don't leave me on this lonely land,

 My dear beloved knight!"