Built from a picture above your bed, grown through tender kisses and late night cereal
When the first older man gave her too long of a weighty look on the street
You know
You knew she was beautiful
The kind of beauty a fathers keeps to himself
Ever proud, but ever silent
When the beauty slips through the cracks in your fingers
She's born again
To the fathers of girls who don't listen:
Do not shake in anger when she first comes home smelling of alcohol
Do not look so hurt when she kisses the lips of a boy she met in the hour
Listen carefully when she explains why she lied to you
Hold her hand when her fingers have sorry calluses
Pour her a glass of water when she gasps for breath between sobs
Stay brave, even when your heart is hurting for her. She can supply more than enough of the hurt by herself
To the fathers of girls who don't listen:
Even
If
Its
The
Last
Thing
You
Want
To
Do

Listen
Grab a snack, watch old Seinfeld reruns
And listen