by Gabel Williams
She walks like me,
She has the temper of my mother.
She believes in me,
And holds beauty like her mother.
Her curiosity is much understood
Although I have yet to explain
That life brings joy
That is more pleasant than pain.
I am her provider,
I am her guide,
Since her birth
Soon she’ll be five.
Sometimes she’s mad
But still I bother:
She’s my last sense of innocence
I am her father.
Angels east
Angels west
Protect my little girl
As she finds success.
Conifers 