Parenting Poem by Cabaline xxx

Alone in the kitchen,
a tired head is buried in worn hands.
The ashen, greyed hair, flattened by palms,
which have done so much.
They have grafted, dried tears, held babies,
and now they block out, the harsh world.
His head snaps up, and a smile appears,
as his only daughter enters.
They laugh, and hug. All the while,
she knows that there is something wrong,
she knows what it is. But is silent.
Because she knows that her dad,
would not want her to carry the same weight,
that makes him cradle his head so.
She does anyway, she worries, and smiles.
He knows that she can tell what is wrong,
she can tell that he knows this.
But neither of them change their behavior.
Holding eachother up, with laughter,
is how they both get by.