Dark curled flyway hair,
Covers a head,
Which holds a special brain.
Wide eyes,
Dark brown in colour,
Are the hardest to scrutinise.
Face clean shaven,
A strong jaw,
Completes his good looks.
He appears serious,
To those who approach him,
For the first time.
He is far,
From serious,
But his true colours never comes out in a jiffy.
He hides them,
For the outsiders,
But shows me his colourful world.
He has a warm heart,
Impatient and short tempered,
But loving and a protective one.
He handles me with care,
Holds my hand in his,
In a soft embrace.
He picks me up,
And runs in a circle,
Laughing with me.
He hugs me,
When I cry,
Rubbing my back.
He gives me kisses,
When I go to sleep,
And stays with me till I wake up.
He gets me whatever I need,
A lollipop,
Or a necklace.
He asks me no questions,
Trusts me with his big heart,
And looks me with eyes that hold a pool of pride.
He is my Pappa,
And I his baby daughter,
Always have and always will.
Our relationship,
Is the strongest,
Is the everlasting one.
We will always love each other,
Even after I become an old lady,
And my Pappa becomes an old man.
I will always be,
His baby girl,
No compromises.
_____
An ode to my Pappa.
©VioletEden
YOU ARE READING
My soul wants to tell you
PoetryTaste my desire for life and love, adventure and honesty, on my chapped lips and tongue. Drink from me, the light of unseen tomorrows. Empty me of all that I made myself of; what I think I am. I am a huge zap between reality and imagination. Bridge...
