-12:07-,
Literary: A Father’s Advent
For seven years, I’ve been away
And for what seemed as long, I stood at my home’s door
Carefully, I picked out the words I wished to say
Then knocked when I couldn’t wait anymore
I was filled inside with a slight sense of dread
As the door was pushed open by a small girl
I forgot all the words I had prepared
As my mind was filled with questions for her
How has she been?
Has she been eating well?
What is she interested in?
What stories does she have to tell?
But she had her own inquiry
And she spoke before I was able to
Her words were few, her tone was steady
All she asked was “Who are you?”
The girl who stands before me is my daughter
Yes she is, but I am not her father
And for what seemed as long, I stood at my home’s door
Carefully, I picked out the words I wished to say
Then knocked when I couldn’t wait anymore
I was filled inside with a slight sense of dread
As the door was pushed open by a small girl
I forgot all the words I had prepared
As my mind was filled with questions for her
How has she been?
Has she been eating well?
What is she interested in?
What stories does she have to tell?
But she had her own inquiry
And she spoke before I was able to
Her words were few, her tone was steady
All she asked was “Who are you?”
The girl who stands before me is my daughter
Yes she is, but I am not her father
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