Sunday, July 15, 2007


My father’s eyes
Flash with anger at life’s injustice
Widen with joy at his daughter’s accomplishments
Spark with humor as we laugh.
I have rarely seen them fill with tears.

His eyes flecked with gold and green
Can tell you more
Than if he speaks aloud.
One look or stare is all that is needed to
Know if he is happy or displeased.

My father’s hands
Are strong and gentle
Tender and rough
Large and brown.
When I was child
He engulfed my palm in his.

His hands flew my kites
Fixed my bikes
Wiped my tears
Held me tight
Reminding me to be strong.

My father’s legs
Still strong after all these years
Once ran with me
And biked with me
Once chased my monsters
And my fears.

My father’s life-
My legacy- my history
My knowledge
Of love and more.

My father’s life
Is my life-
He has given me the key
To open the door.

What do I give to the man
Who offered me the World?
I am grown now

but will always
Be Daddy’s Girl.

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