Little One

I remember seeing this poem that my dad wrote, framed and hanging on the wall when we lived in Centre. I hadn't thought about it again until I recently went through some artifacts that I had mish-mashed in a bag in my room. The book that it was published in is currently in Madison so I asked Alexander to take a picture of it for me. (Thanks Bruv)
It's sometimes hard for me to imagine the man who wrote this poem as my father. Sometimes it's easy to remember him in this light. Memories are strange.

 
 

Little One

I want to thank the good Lord above, for giving me this little one to love.

I am as proud as any daddy could be!

It is amazing to watch her and see how wonderful this little one can be.

She is as smart as a whip, as bright as the sun.

It warms my heart to watch her have fun.

She is just learning to talk, and has so much to say.

She says it all in her own special way.

She likes for me to read to her, so she sits upon my knee.

She likes to be there so she can see.

I have her full attention while I read from the book.

She can't read yet, but she likes to look.

When it's time for work and I must say goodbye,

She doesn't want me to go and starts to cry.

She loves her daddy and doesn't want me to go.

But she will be happy and smile, when I return in a little while.

She is learning and growing, more and more every day,

Into a little lady with her own special ways.

Someday soon she will be a woman with little ones of her own.

Maybe she will pass on to them some of the good I have shown.

I want to thank the good Lord above, for giving me this little one to love.

--William L. Barrow