My preschool daughter has come
to me with her tears and her woe;
upset and tired she will play now
in comfort beside me she will not go.
The troubles of the world hang heavy
on her heart tired she will not depart;
her mother is upset she arrives with hurt
little pride reason unimportant cause start.
Who am I her father to deny
her this place of comfort
here at my sought pillow knee.
Fast asleep now she is safe
she sleeps by my sought side
to awake hours later rested be.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem