She remembers how he
wrapped his arms around her young body
and said, “Daddy loves you”.
She hugged him back,
tighter than ever, smiling.
She remembers him asking
in a slight whisper, “do you love me too?”
She replied, “Oh daddy, of course I do”
His arms were so big and strong,
she felt safe
like nothing could go wrong.
He kissed her forehead
and told her that she was his favourite daughter.
She giggled and replied, “but daddy, I’m your only daughter”
“That’s why you’re my favourite, now give daddy a kiss”.
She went to kiss his cheek,
but he turned and caught her on the lips.
She remembers how
he played with her hair
while sitting beside her on the bed.
He told the most beautiful stories she ever heard,
of princesses and fairies
and princes and knights.
As her eyes grew weary,
he’d kiss her goodnight.
She remembers him
being her rock through the years.
When the first boy broke her heart,
he was the one to wipe up her tears.
Even when she turned 16,
she was still daddy’s little girl.
Knowing deep down inside,
she was the centre of his little world.
She remembers not having much,
but what he could he gave her.
Though sometimes she was wrong,
she still would have his favour.
So daddy’s little girl grew up
and knew how a man should treat her.
She’d treat him like a king too,
he didn’t need to be beneath her.
Mom and dad were always equal,
so in practice is how they’d teach her.
by BK TheRealist