God's Scribe Poetry Selections
Whom I Once Called Daddy
Someday, when I'm grown
And my children are still young
My father will no longer
Go by Daddy, but Grampa
And my children will love him
In the same way I did once
And they will sit in his lap
And he will hold their hearts
He will make them gifts of love
Out of a single piece of wood
Gifts made by his old, worn hands
That will forever be cherished
Things like doll cradles
And little toy soldiers
Carved with the greatest details
And given with even greater love
But they won't know the man I loved
And remember him as I do
With the smell of hard work around
And the look of kindness in his eyes
And even though he will be old
And won't be able to do what he could
To me, he will still be the man
Whom I once called Daddy.
All rights reserved, © "Freudy". Copying without permission for non-personal use is forbidden.
And my children are still young
My father will no longer
Go by Daddy, but Grampa
And my children will love him
In the same way I did once
And they will sit in his lap
And he will hold their hearts
He will make them gifts of love
Out of a single piece of wood
Gifts made by his old, worn hands
That will forever be cherished
Things like doll cradles
And little toy soldiers
Carved with the greatest details
And given with even greater love
But they won't know the man I loved
And remember him as I do
With the smell of hard work around
And the look of kindness in his eyes
And even though he will be old
And won't be able to do what he could
To me, he will still be the man
Whom I once called Daddy.
All rights reserved, © "Freudy". Copying without permission for non-personal use is forbidden.
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Whom I Once Called Daddy
Whom I Once Called Daddy
