Saturday, July 4, 2015

Sunbeams And Bittersweet Things

Sunbeam smile and the little things
Trinkets delicately placed in your hair
Of you I think about
When you were small, with me, were not here

You will always be my little sunshine
Yes, that’s Daddy’s name I have given you
Dolls with dust, you’re growing up
What’s a Father to do?

From a rocking chair
Remembering distant wakeful nights
Of praying over you latent in my arms
Oh precious those days, have taken flight 

You used to waddle and frolic
In the autumn leaves I would rake
Leaning against my tool I would watch
Piles you tried to make

Sunday morning’s ritual curling iron
The baton has been passed to you 
Little golden curls I used to make
Have I now been forced to eschew

The radio flyer wagon, peeling wooden rails
Still rests in the garage, garnered with rust
Could sit you and your brother
But you in front, was always a must

Our conversations now have deepened
Missing bittersweet those days wishing you could speak
Our idiom then
Was when our eyes and smiles would meet

Sights and memories, bygone days, slide into the past
Of a daughter that’s growing older in bursts
Pray for Daddy my dear one
For every new day, as your father, will always be my first

Copyright 2015 Wandering Satellite Publishing

 
Post a Comment