When I was Six
We'd run and gather 'bout his knees,
he'd tickle us and we would tease,
to make a bridge twixt stool and chair,
and he would hold us prisoner there,
all laughing till we gasped for air,
and begged him please, for more.
He's sometimes tell us stories then,
all cuddled up right next to him.
If days were sometimes dull and flat
our nights with Dad made up for that
I'll always think of how we sat,
snuggled in his love.
5 comments:
Awww that's so tender.
that gave me a big smile...
Beautiful.
Lucky woman, to have such memories.
pauline there's such goodness available to us through our remembering. thanks for sharing your sweet writing here. steven
It's so nice that you had a dad worthy of such a loving poem, Pauline. Thanks for sharing it, good dads are worth remembering.
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