Walks in the park by evening,
picking roses by the hedge,
on my shoulders you pitched,
my little girl, my own flower
I’d tuck you in bed, tell tales!
to your little ears, I was music
I’d rock you, lullabies I’d sing
I was your army, your Jericho
If only seasons hadn’t changed,
If only time hadn’t set curves,
you’d still be little and nimble
and you’d still be mine, not he’s
ebitularmbert!! Thank you, your Post.
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The pleasure is mine @iamgun. Thanks
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girl grow up and that he sad thing.
nice poetry btw
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Exactly...that is the father sad that his daughter grew up and no longer belongs to him
Thanks for the compliment @rizkiqwecke
I am honored.
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