Our blood may not have
Mixed to make my babies
Seems by nature our flesh
Mysteriously paired
Defined by love
Our flesh meshed,
breed, and multiplied
Though not the planter
primal seed
You love my children, still.
The way you love me your kingship prove:
When each child turn to you when life’s too hard to bear
Needing someone’s hands or arms to be there-
Their blood father’s hands long gone to dust, but
Wherever I turn you’re right there, walking in his steps.
June 16,2013
Almedia Knight-Oliver
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Happy father's Day, to the best father in the world