Daddy Came Home

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Dust motes danced in sunlit air,

A silent house, a vacant chair.

The clock ticked slow, a mournful sound,

As shadows stretched upon the ground.


We children played, but listless now,

A game without a happy vow.

Our laughter thin, a fragile thing,

Because our hearts forgot to sing.


For Daddy lived beyond the sky,

Where stars keep watch and angels fly.

He once went out to brave the day-

Then never found his earthly way.


We missed his stories, deep and bright,

His arms that held away the night.

We missed his smile, so calm, so kind,

The gentle strength he left behind.


That night I dreamed the lane grew wide,

And footsteps brushed the quiet side.

A car slowed down, a door swung free,

And hope ran fast inside of me.


He stood there tall, a little worn,

But in his eyes-a brand new morn.

His bags fell down, forgotten things,

As to his arms, like birds, we sprang.


The hug was tight, a gentle squeeze,

He smelled of earth and summer trees.

His beard was rough, yet soft and warm,

A shelter safe from any storm.


He lifted us, so strong, so high,

He kissed our cheeks and dried each eye.

“I’m here,” he said, so low, so near,

The words we’d waited long to hear.


The house awoke with joyful sound,

As love and laughter spun around.

We showed our drawings, worn with care,

And told him tales he used to share.


He listened close, with patient grace,

That tender light upon his face.

He read us stories, soft and slow,

And watched us drift where dreamers go.


Then morning crept with pale, cold air-

My arms reached out, the vacant chair.

The clock ticked on. The house was still.

The world obeyed its quiet will.


Yet in my heart, no space was bare,

For Daddy’s love still lingered there.

He’s not on Earth-but lives so near,

Each time I dream, he’s always here.

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