I used to see my daddy
Walking tired as tired can be
I'd look out through a window pane
The sight always thrilled me
He'd have his shoulders in a slouch
His coat was old and worn
Carried his tools in a carpenter's box
They were a mystery to me
I'd wonder at the things he made
How they'd come to be
He used to tell me stories of jobs he did
To try and make me see
I'd get up to go and greet him
Then run to see my daddy home
He'd grab me with his free arm
Ask me how my day had gone
I remembered those few seconds
As I sat at home today
A little boy and his dad
Together at the end of the day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
How have I not seen this one before? I love this one so much. It is wonderful. Brings back so many terrific memories for me. Thank you for writing this one. One of my favorites, always.