Special

To my (somewhat estranged) father on his birthday.

 

A little blonde-haired girl, the world spinning around her,

In the grasp of giant hands.

A little bit scared- but soundly assured

Those hands wouldn’t let her fall.

You laughed at my silly prance and clapped as I did a dance,

And in your eyes I felt special.

 

Now staring at this blank page with a goal of untangling words

that seldom find their way out,

This is my amateur attempt at making you feel special.

 

I search myself in the mirror, trying to find a resemblance of you;

Something I can show to prove I’m yours.

Starting with the eyes, I’m making my way down

and wind up settling on the second toe.

 

As I recall various moments of my life and experiences we’ve shared,

I realize it’s of small consequence the likeness of our skin –

But rather our connection lies a couple layers in.

 

Sometimes it’s a struggle relating.

I think I’m grown; you think I’m growing.

I remember one time saying you would keep me small forever.

I’ll admit sometimes I want the future past.

 

But yet inside at times I wish the time would just turn back,

To days when I was just a little girl with the single goal

of climbing onto her daddy’s lap.

 

Life seems so complicated when I’m trying to find myself,

While trying to prove I’m worth your loving me.

Being special in your eyes now seems like much harder a task,

when the best that I can be is only me;

 

A not so little girl, the hair is blonde no longer.

She’s reaching out to hold her fathers’ hand.

A love that has been bruised can only now grow stronger.

I’ll eat my pride and try, the wound to mend.

Aware that actions are what show, for now I only hope you know

that in my eyes you always will be special.

A little blonde-haired girl, the world spinning around her,

In the grasp of giant hands.

A little bit scared- but soundly assured

Those hands wouldn’t let her fall.

You laughed at my silly prance and clapped as I did a dance,

And in your eyes I felt special.

 

Now staring at this blank page with a goal of untangling words

that seldom find their way out,

This is my amateur attempt at making you feel special.

 

I search myself in the mirror, trying to find a resemblance of you;

Something I can show to prove I’m yours.

Starting with the eyes, I’m making my way down

and wind up settling on the second toe.

 

As I recall various moments of my life and experiences we’ve shared,

I realize it’s of small consequence the likeness of our skin –

But rather our connection lies a couple layers in.

 

Sometimes it’s a struggle relating.

I think I’m grown; you think I’m growing.

I remember one time saying you would keep me small forever.

I’ll admit sometimes I want the future past.

 

But yet inside at times I wish the time would just turn back,

To days when I was just a little girl with the single goal

of climbing onto her daddy’s lap.

 

Life seems so complicated when I’m trying to find myself,

While trying to prove I’m worth your loving me.

Being special in your eyes now seems like much harder a task,

when the best that I can be is only me;

 

A not so little girl, the hair is blonde no longer.

She’s reaching out to hold her fathers’ hand.

A love that has been bruised can only now grow stronger.

I’ll eat my pride and try, the wound to mend.

Aware that actions are what show, for now I only hope you know

that in my eyes you always will be special.