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All I have left of you
Is a black and white picture;
Vintage collection,
Chipped in the corners
And curled up edges, locked away
In my scrapbook;
With a scent of rose petals.
My notions of you are radiant and lifting,
Never a dull avail, knowing that I originated
From such vanity and grandeur.
I picture your smiles to be
The most subdued of all,
Like the falling of the sun into
The extremities of the ocean.
I envision your voice to be
Ardent and wistful,
Caressing the words as you speak.
In my black and white image of you,
The sun is reflecting off the softness of your hair
And the resoluteness of you,
Quite enthralling each time
I look at you knowing that I am your creation,
And from your lineage, my heart found its beat.
Anyone can be a father,
But it takes an exceptional man to be a daddy,
And whether you are with me or not
It suits me perfectly acknowledging that
I am the child whose smiles made you content.
(Looking at the picture above definitely reminds me of my father, so here's my piece)
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