Here I am at fifty-five years
old
wanting my dad, for me to hold.
One last time for him to hear
and whisper I love you, in his
ear.
I think of all the time we did waste
running past each other in a
haste.
The roles he played for him were set
so closeness for us, we didn't
get.
The daughter he wanted, I couldnt' be
the father I needed, wasn't
he.
Somehow through this time we endured
and found our love was still
shared.
So at time like this, and Father's Day
I sit and ponder, wanting to
say
Dad, I 'm still that little girl
held on your lap, hair in curls.
If I could go back all those years
I wouldn't be sitting here in
tears.
Tears of pain, feelings that I missed
the gift you gave me with a
kiss.
So with my sadness, and a prayer
Dad, in my heart, you're always
here.
Kay Ekwall©1998