Soft hands once held tight,
small fingers grasping
strings of laughter—
bubbles of wonder.

Now, steady hands weave
threads of her own,
spinning life’s fabric
with quiet resolve.

Footsteps that still dance
through sunlit sand
also press firm paths
of wisdom and grace.

Her voice, still a song
belting with fervor,
speaks with echoes
of strength and love.

Mischievous smiles remain,
tempered by time,
yet still lighting the room
with their knowing glow.

Bright eyes, still seeking,
but also seeing—
a future shaped
by hands once guided.

Trusting, complete love—
a father watches,
holding tight to pride,
as she floats beyond—
on threads of time.

Small hands clutching tight,
strings of laughter tethered
to floating dreams—
bubbles of wonder.

Sand-filled toes in shoes,
quick feet dancing
through my greatest dreams
of who she will be.

Soft kisses from lips
formed from my own heart,
melting into a
stream to her future.

Sweet songs of her love,
belted with fervor
from within the small,
light-flowered sundress.

Mischievous smiles,
doll-filled hands spinning
games that fill the day
with her glow of joy.

Bright eyes signaling
a future, brilliant
as the twinkle
of stolen stars.

Trusting, complete love,
holding tight to life
as it drifts beyond,
on bubbles of wonder

It is always "What will other people think when they see you?" NOT "What would I feel when you said that to me?"

In your eyes, I see my own.
I waited so long
for your presence to become real.

In that crucial moment,
I felt something
changing my awareness,
and the soundless vessels were filled
with joyful abundance—
colored by
pain and sadness
that time goes so fast
in underrated moments.

Materializing all these silent dreams,
this one little girl who is growing,
watching me with defenseless trust
like nobody has before.
Gestures, smiles, brief anger, and talks—
I gather them in endless memory.

Sweet Melody, my Purpose
from the first breath,
you chose me,
and I felt beautifully complete.

I know that a real journey
begins through terra incognita
Every day is surprisingly different.
I accept with relief my passing.
I see your blooming wisdom
in thinking smiles, and authentic recognition.

My Daughter, I want to give  
as much love and acceptance as you need.
Taking your hand and letting you go
when you’re ready
to walk into life on your own—
watching the indigo sky.
Breathing freely, without anxiety.
After each fall, another resurrection comes.

I am here, I hope to stay a long while
to finally return to my last home,
without fear, with some tears.
Please, keep embracing this existence
with good and lost people around.
Be sure that I will smile
in your still-beating heart
giving you warmth.
.

An inner light,
brighter than sunlight.
Her smile is bright,
a beacon in the night.

A treasure she is,
a diamond if you please-
strong in spirit,
even stronger in faith.

A voice like an angel,
elegance covered in grace.
She is beauty.
She is peace.

And I, her beast,
stand in awe.
My daughter is her name.

Daddy, spend some time with me,
it’s all I really need.

It doesn’t have to be that much,
let’s go do simple things.

Help me remember times back when
I was a little girl,

when you called me your princess doll,
back when you used to twirl

me round and round. You’d tossed me high,
just simply having fun.

So, Daddy let’s go be carefree,
make me feel I’m the one

who’s still your princess doll.
Yeah, let’s go spend a little time,

pretending like forever
I am yours and you are mine.

bare trees stand in the morning stillness as
silent watchers, empty, cold air fills the gaps
between the branches and withering leaves
a tender cry cuts past the bedroom door
his comfort rushes to her
hands desperate but tainted with selfishness

a daughter bundled in wrath, braces for the trudge ahead

sideways he staggers one foot, and then the other
thump, thump, and THUMP
the veil unravels, before the bathroom mirror
a man caught between fury and shame

he sees her frail blanket, and can only reach for more

Father-craft has been passed down from father to father,
losing and gaining at each slow bequeathing.
Less heavy-handed there, more soft-hearted here
at each generation’s rejection of the disciplines of the past.
So much so that I wonder what's left of the original art
and what we've lost and what we've gained.

This is my food for thought as I feed my daughter
crumbled digestive with mashed banana -
(Perhaps a favourite of mine and my father's.)
- while she grins and chortles, blowing biscuit dust
and spittle bubbles with absolute child-delight.

Food for thought and thanks as I drink in her smile,
wipe my cheek and laugh along, prolonging
the choice perfection of this fathering moment.

A woman, bears the responsibility
of bearing her husband a son –
His legacy

Yet, even as she presents him
with a daughter, she gives him
a gift he never knew he had –
A soft heart

And in all that she offers him,
she provides a reason for him to
embrace the fullness of,

                                 Fatherhood!