What it means to be like his little princess,
Saw him the day I came to his strong yet tender palms
Felt the tinkle of pride in his eyes
Saw him becoming a child again
On lips that grins on the innocently mischievous me,
Hands that fed me food, love, respect, purity
He who stood by me
He who never left me alone
He without whom, I know nothing
He means the world to me
My First love, my dad...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem