Walk with me a while, and hold my tiny hand
Talk to me like you did, when I was a little man
Tell me about the world, your hopes and dreams for me
Who will I become? What kind of man will I be?
Let me see through your eyes, how it all turns out
Never having regrets, never having a single doubt
Of all the fathers in this world, I'm glad that I'm your son
And all the memories that we've made, I'll treasure every one
And though your not here with me, to be my rock, to be my guide
You'll always be the angel, walking by my side
I'll imagine that I'm five years old, and your reaching down to hold my hand
Cause in my heart I'll always, be your little man.
Love you papa.
About the Creator
Christopher
I have started writing in my middle years, and have finished one novel that is with a publisher, am working on two more kids books, and have a novella in the works to pair with my finished novel. I hope you enjoy my page.
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More stories from Christopher and writers in Poets and other communities.
Heart of Fire
-There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Griffin had two miles left to go, the heat on his back and neck slowing him to a crawl. A mile down the path was a small creek, big enough to drink from but too small to cool the fire roasting the back of his body. He had to stay low and move only when he was certain it was safe to do so. Any misstep would mean his life, and the life of his newborn baby girl. He needed to get the medicine to her soon, or she would surely die from the fever. He checked the sky and the surrounding mountains and took off at a sprint. As the sparse copse of trees loomed up ahead, he noticed a shudder in the small bushes surrounding the trunks. His heart leapt in his chest, but he had to keep going. Stopping out in the open was not an option. He needed cover. As he ducked below the smallest branches and into the safety of the brush, he felt eyes upon him, and he swung around with his sword ready for battle. Looking back at him was a tiny set of eyes and dirty blond hair coated with soot and black ash. For what seemed like an eternity, they both stared at one another not moving an inch, wary but thankful to not be facing down the jaws of death.
By Christopher4 years ago in Fiction
Off the Book
It ended like every other stupid idea. Badly, and alone. I’m researching digital confession ethics, he said. A tech ethicist. He gestured at floating data I couldn’t see then pulled out a physical notebook. Actual paper, fountain pen. He held it up like he was showing me scripture.
By Nicky Frankly5 days ago in Fiction
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