Safe, for a child, is his father’s hand, holding him (or her) tight.
–Marion C. Garretty
I look to my Dad’s hand
and he makes sure I can walk up those steps
He offers it when I need it
but sometimes lets me tackle things
on my own so I can grow
I listen for my Dad’s voice
saying “Come this way …
Look at this
up at the stars, the glow worms
listen for the sounds of the waterfall
Safe is my Dad’s hand
Safe is his voice.
Memories of it will appear
when I look up at the starry night.
(c) all rights reserved words and image Gumbootspearlz