I wish I could sing songs or play for you
sweet, beautiful notes hugging loving words.
These words on paper, although loved by you,
never seem enough for me to describe
all that you’ve happily sacrificed so
I could be who I am.  You love my words,
but you forget that you are the reason
I write on this paper and bang on baby
grand keys.  I haven’t made myself this poet
and player alone, without loving help
from a loving father who quietly
gives his support in laughter and sweet tears.
Dad, I love you, and I’m eternally
grateful for being your annoying kid.