Blood and tears pour from my tiny body.

Bike behind me, I run into your comforting arms.

I let you tend my wounds, both real and fake,

Watching your calloused hands dance as you worked.

I walk down the steps and you pull me in

Diploma forgotten, I breathe in your sweet scent,

And feel your hands around me, trembling with pride.

Somehow, I know nothing could be better. 

Hands as rough as trees and not much smaller,

Gently hang onto mine as you examine the ring.

Then you flash a bittersweet smile and hold me close,

With hands cradled around me, protecting me still.

So, even though I’m leaving soon

To start a life with another man,

Please just know my favorite place will always be

Wrapped up safe, in daddy’s hands.