As I look at him he looks at me
I was his princess he used to call me
He left with no saying
He left giving me a pain
I was his flying little bumble bee
He was my heroic father no one could ever be
As I used to sit and look out the window thinking he will come rescue me no his flying princess bumble bee; I waited.
coming over the hills from far away, here he comes wanting to play
As I got older and didn't wait any more, he wasn't my heroic man anymore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem