Daughter

Quarter past seven, Sunday morning I hear a voice that gently asks me: Are you already awake, Dad? Are you cozy coming down with me? Do you have to go to work, or are you free today? And are you going out with me? Oh, time goes by so fast! Yesterday I saw her for the first time, she was laying in my arms. She is beautiful and time becomes her. I blink my eyes and see how she’ s changed, again and again. But how big she may be, In my eyes she’ll always remain small. Quarter past seven, Sunday morning I hear the front door open, very gently, And I fall asleep, she is home. I wanted to pick her up, but she asked not to be there She finds her way home by now And sometimes, when I close my eyes We walk together on the beach Her little hand in mine And then, she stops time for a while And it is a moment again like before And she needs me again. I hold her As she was I hold her. Quarter past seven, Sunday morning She hears my voice that softly wakens her Today is your big day She is beautiful and time becomes her I blink my eyes and see that her heart is forever for someone else But where ever she may be In my mind she is with me In my eyes she remains small