Everyday, somewhere a child
stares out a window
for Dad to come home.
It doesn’t matter what kind of work he does
(though a fireman or race car driver would be great).
It doesn’t matter how much money he makes
(though getting a new bike is better than not).
It doesn’t matter how tall he is or what clothes he wears
(though 501s and Nikes are cooler
than Brooks Brothers and wing tips).
What matters is hearing the sound of him coming home
his voice saying your great
his hug keeping you safe
his kiss on top of your head
assuring you it will be okay.
Of all the words I’ll ever hear
of all the folks I’ll ever meet
of all the roads I’ll walk along
Nothing will ever make me feel as safe
as important, as sure,
as carrying my Daddy inside my heart
next to my soul.
Where he can keep me safe whenever I need him to.
*for Nicholas J Baracco, Massepequa, NY
All rights reserved. ©1996 by Sara Fryd