Anthracite

Your long black curls bounced
As you giggled in time with them
A precious heart so full of love
And a precious smile on top of the stem

Her troubles are mine but not to own
The cause of the lump in my throat 
Such a lovely gift the seeds once sown
My girl has risen in clouds afloat

You are so much my daughter
With a complex and loving soul
Integral to my bricks and mortar 
No mistaking, you make me whole.

Love, Dad.

This entry was posted on Mar 16, 2015 at 7:19 pm and is filed under Happy little ditties, Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.