Blood and tears pour from my tiny body.
Bike behind me, I run into your comforting arms.
I let you tend my wounds, both real and fake,
Watching your calloused hands dance as you worked.
I walk down the steps and you pull me in
Diploma forgotten, I breathe in your sweet scent,
And feel your hands around me, trembling with pride.
Somehow, I know nothing could be better.
Hands as rough as trees and not much smaller,
Gently hang onto mine as you examine the ring.
Then you flash a bittersweet smile and hold me close,
With hands cradled around me, protecting me still.
So, even though I’m leaving soon
To start a life with another man,
Please just know my favorite place will always be
Wrapped up safe, in daddy’s hands.