In a humble home, a father's love did dwell,
His earnings meager, but his heart, a magic spell.
With every dawn, he set off to toil and strive,
To provide for his family, so they could thrive.

His wallet thin, like a stream that trickles slow,
Yet his dreams for his daughter, they would brightly glow.
Diwali arrived with its festive, joyful sound,
But for himself, no new clothes could be found.

He wore the same attire, year after year,
For his little girl's dreams, he held them dear.
She wished for toys and books, a world to explore,
And he vowed to give her all, that's for sure.

He scrimped and saved, denied himself pleasures grand,
To fulfill her wishes, he would take a stand.
Her smile, his treasure, her laughter, his gold,
In her dreams, his sacrifices he'd always hold.

In his love, there was wealth beyond measure,
A father's devotion, a boundless treasure.
He showed that riches aren't just in gold or attire,
But in love, selflessness, a father's burning fire.

Though his pockets were light, his heart was pure,
For his daughter's dreams, he'd endure and endure.
In the story of this father, love shines so bright,
A beacon of hope in the darkest night.
© nikz2415


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