Heart

The grasping touch.

his gentle hands held me,

raised me.

with my fathers might.

the pain I encounter,

the accidents I make,

the pride in my ethnicity,

my favorite songs,

he invented me.

my curly hair,

to my perseverance and curiosity.

My daddy helped me.

I want him to look down at me and smile,

"that's my babygirl."

I'll make you proud.