Friday, April 12, 2019

I Wish

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I Wish

He always had time to listen,
to care; made me feel like a princess
for the very first time.

Somehow sparked into existance
the tiniest bit of confidence
which took root and grew;

yet so very fragile.  Had to hold tight,
shut out the loud voice at home.

When he finally became a father,
I visited, little baby's fingers
wrapped itself around my hand,

and I leaned in close, whispered:
"You're the luckiest little girl alive."

by Margaret Bednar, April 12, 2019

Really, this is not finished - quick, dashed out thoughts so I can participate in "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Fireblossom Friday - Love"  But we were to write about a love for someone that doesn't know how we love them.  Mine is a father figure... A wonderful man who made a huge difference in a very, very, shy girl's life - one with no confidence and a father who was very critical and hard to please. 

Anyway, I plan on coming back to this poem as this is really just a beginning - I had ten minutes before the stroke of midnight.

Also linked with "NaPoWriMo" - National Poetry Month, a celebration of poetry which takes place each April, was introduced in 1996 and is organized by the Academy of American Poets as a way to increase awareness and appreciation of poetry in the United States.

5 comments:

Kerry O'Connor said...

The role of father is a most essential one in any person's life, and it may not be performed by the biological parent. I found your poem very moving.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

How wonderful that you had this substitute father! I like the poem as it is – particularly with this ending which rounds it off so beautifully and poignantly – but yes please do come back and get it to your own satisfaction. And perhaps post the final version anew, so we can revisit?

Fireblossom said...

I understand this. For me, it was my mother who was constantly critical. Into my life--for a while--came my oldest brother's girlfriend, who had the same effect on me. (My brother is 13 years older than I am.) I was only five, but never forgot her.

Carrie Van Horn said...

Our Father and Mother are our first teachers of love and being loved. It can have such a big impact on our lives. This is a lovely poem Margaret!

tonispencer said...

Sweet loving poem. Very special.