Hello, my lovely daughter, it is me, your dad.
I wrote this little poem for you, and hope it isn't bad.
There are many who say that poetry is all but dead,
But those people go whole lives leaving things unsaid.
Sometimes the love inside us must come out with time,
And sometimes we make that love into clever rhymes.
Without a band or orchestra, I cannot hope to sing,
To tell you that to me you are the most precious thing.
If a person came to me with diamonds all in heaps,
And said they would trade it all for you, for keeps,
I'd spit right in that person's eye and laugh them far away,
You are the reason I wake and live, from early rise of day.
And if a person came to me, with a massive boat,
And said if they could have you, I could then be afloat,
I'd tell them not for all the ships that ever sailed the sea,
Unleashing my swashbuckling skills, they would swiftly flee.
If someone came to me with a spaceship bound for Mars,
Offering a grand voyage among the twinkling stars,
And all I would have to do, for them, was give you in return,
I would reject their offer quickly, and their houses I would burn.
And if a person came to me, and offered me the planet,
A final mission to my will, and an army too, to man it,
And all I would have to do for them is surrender my little girl,
I'd take their offer in my hand, tear it up, and hurl.
You are too young to read this now, and to understand,
How very much you mean to me, you are so very grand.
Grace is a blessing we do not ask for, or even quite deserve,
It is the beauty among the chaos that we can preserve.
You bless us with your life and make our dark world bright,
It is for you I live and die for, and strive, and struggle, and fight.
Time parts all things eventually, no matter how we cling,
But nothing will stop my love for you, my most precious thing.