Father

A demon of hunt.
He softly grunts.
Loved by few
Feared by many
Describes my father dear,
In plenty.
He broke his ankle,
Without repair
I cry in daddy's soft black hair.
I break the law
He chuckles mute
I hide behind him
In recluse
He pats my hair
I say I'm scared
He looks for something
To help me fare.
He buys me treats
Puts socks on feet
I hold him
I will not retreat.
Through darkness, damp, uncertainty
I hold my father, and he holds me.