I remember the day well
when we first held hands,
You wrapped me round your finger
with your innocent demands.
Then I dashed off and bought
your first doll and first dress.
Leaving my wife and your mother
to her well-deserved rest.
It seems like only yesterday
when the swings were free.
I can still feel your little
hands tugging at me.
“Come on Daddy, it’s our turn now.
The swings are free Daddy,
So it’s our turn now.”
Some years later, as you
skipped off to school
I prayed that I’d taught you
well life’s golden rule.
Then came the teen years,
late curfews, short dresses,
Date nights… graduations…
then changing addresses.
Today the flower-girl’s on cue
Mom gives a sigh.
Then you link my arm and
Whisper as in days gone by. |
“Come on Daddy, it’s our turn now.
You’re the Father of the Bride
And it’s our turn now.”
The music starts up and we
step out in stride.
Seems my tears I’m having
trouble to hide.
At the Church altar you look
resplendent in white.
Groom awaits, candlelit
in the cool summer night.
It’s a hug and a butterfly
kiss once again.
But, do I hear right, as you
whisper my name…
“Come on Daddy, it’s our turn now.
I’ll always love you Daddy,
But it’s our turn now.”
So over the years I’ll remember
this refrain,
“Come on Daddy, it’s our turn now,
You know I’ll always love you Daddy,
But it’s our turn now.”
~ J.E. Dyrholm ~
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