Dad
There he stands with his grey and white beard,
if you didn’t know him you’d think he’d be feared.
He works as a boiler maker near the sea,
he gets home late, just before tea.
He loving and he’s caring,
he’s helpful and he’s daring.
He sits in his shed, in his backyard,
he works all day and he works real hard.
He snores so loud it rumbles the walls,
the last place you’d find him is in the shopping malls.
I love to dance in our kitchen with him,
But he dances so bad you’d think he’s missing a limb.
He cheers me up when I am sad,
I’m proud to call this man my dad.
Copyright © Lily Lloyd | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment