Daddy's Hands

Tue, 06/14/2016 - 15:39 -- teunies

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.  

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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