0 views
A Father Who Did The Best He Knew How
A Father Who Did The Best He Knew How
In the year of '67, a young boy's life was stirred, His father left, no word, no sign, just echoes that he heard. The void was vast, the silence loud, yet one man stood so tall, His grandfather, a beacon bright, through life's unyielding squall. A decade passed, the boy now ten, his father reappeared, With hopes to teach, to bond, to drive, the past, it seemed, had cleared. But memories of absence long, had shaped the boy inside, He vowed to tread a and off different path, with his own stride of pride. The years went on, the boy now grown, father in his turn, Without a map or compass past, for guidance he did yearn. He gave his all, he tried his best, with love h led the way, Roller skates, and fishing trips, to brighten every day. To Michigan, they ventured forth, two weeks of family ties, Exploring roots, embracing kin, 'Neath wide and open skies. He hoped to show, through actions kind, what words could not convey, That love's a deed, a steadfast choice, come night or brightest day. Yet children's eyes may sometimes see, through lenses tinged with pain, The efforts made, the love bestowed, can seem to be in vain. But know this truth, dear heart so worn, by time and tide's harsh test, You've been the dad you never had, and truly, you've done your best. So carry on, with head held high, through every ebb and flow, Your love's a seed, within their hearts, in time, it's sure to grow. For being a father's more than blood, it's the care that you invest. And by that count, I see your worth, you're indeed a father blessed.
Written by: Loyd Davis, Jr.
© Loyd Davis, Jr.
In the year of '67, a young boy's life was stirred, His father left, no word, no sign, just echoes that he heard. The void was vast, the silence loud, yet one man stood so tall, His grandfather, a beacon bright, through life's unyielding squall. A decade passed, the boy now ten, his father reappeared, With hopes to teach, to bond, to drive, the past, it seemed, had cleared. But memories of absence long, had shaped the boy inside, He vowed to tread a and off different path, with his own stride of pride. The years went on, the boy now grown, father in his turn, Without a map or compass past, for guidance he did yearn. He gave his all, he tried his best, with love h led the way, Roller skates, and fishing trips, to brighten every day. To Michigan, they ventured forth, two weeks of family ties, Exploring roots, embracing kin, 'Neath wide and open skies. He hoped to show, through actions kind, what words could not convey, That love's a deed, a steadfast choice, come night or brightest day. Yet children's eyes may sometimes see, through lenses tinged with pain, The efforts made, the love bestowed, can seem to be in vain. But know this truth, dear heart so worn, by time and tide's harsh test, You've been the dad you never had, and truly, you've done your best. So carry on, with head held high, through every ebb and flow, Your love's a seed, within their hearts, in time, it's sure to grow. For being a father's more than blood, it's the care that you invest. And by that count, I see your worth, you're indeed a father blessed.
Written by: Loyd Davis, Jr.
© Loyd Davis, Jr.
