Sunday, 18 June 2017

That little child

How the passing years are cruel
Reminding me of times gone by
A father with his little girl
On my knee, she was only three

Then when she was growing up
Our angel running, smiling now
As we explored where birds did sing
Wading streams just daughter and me

That little child was now a teen
With long legs going her own way
Bending rules with her impish grin
Texting friends at night till almost three

She has gone her own way now
But comes home again and again
Thankyou Dad for the way you were
You were the best one that could be

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