your footsteps were crooked and a little off kilter
though I still tried to match your steps
your way of doing things was always a bit different
(detrimental to impressionable souls)
maybe you were not Mr. Brady or Leave it to beavers dad
but you were my dad…..and the only one I have….
through all the ruckus and the lunacy
I was a little girl who cried for you (while you cried)
through the tatter of ripped seams and too much whiskey
I whispered “its ok daddy” and I hurt for you….
so maybe you were never perfect in any sense….
and a round peg in a square hole trying to make a place
confused and confounded by life and its roller coaster ride
but I adored you in my broken heart (standing loyal)
through the crazy that you put me through
this one is for you daddy….and there is a silver lining
in every cloud that stings the sky…..beneath the rain
I have a smile I can toss to you through the downpour
and my small hands hold yours through the tempest
my eyes gazing up and watching each mistake you make
and loving you so much anyway…what else can I do?