Children with fathers

I wonder what they dream about, those children with fathers

If not for that one face, watching over as you grow

What do they dream about?

If not for those bedtime stories, goodnight hugs

What do they yearn for?

If not for the well-deserved pat on the back, whether you fail or pass

What do they ask for?

Those children with fathers, fathers to love, to call out and get an answer

What do they seek, if not for the pleasure of saying the word, Dad?

I wonder, if they know what they have

I wonder, if they cherish what we do not have

Children without fathers, lost without the protective embrace

No one to have our backs, no patting, no stories, no warm hugs

Children without fathers, depressed souls, seeking validation from other children with fathers

I wonder if they know that we see them longingly, hoping to have what they have

Knowing that the pleasure is lost to them, aware that what was will never be

If I could tell you, I would remind you to cherish what you have

Children with fathers, blessed are you to not have known despair of this kind

Children without fathers, miserable wretches, finding solace in dreams about the faces they long to see

I wonder, what they dream about?

Those children who have fathers.

3 thoughts on “Children with fathers

  1. My father killed himself when I was 6. I had a stepfather from 6½ to 10, but he was always drunk. My paternal grandparents adopted me when I was 10, but granddad worked 200 miles from home, coming home only on weekends. I never missed having a father for stories, hugs, and the like, until I was in college. When that first “Parents Weekend” came, yeah, I felt different.

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