My father

In the silent stength f dawn's first light,
Where shadows yield to morning's grace,
A father's love stands firm and bright,
A beacon in the time and space.

His hands, though weathered, firm and kind,
Have shaped the world in tender care,
With every scar, a story lined,
Of sacrifice and love laid bare.

In every challenge faced, he stands,
A steadfast rock, a guiding star,
His wisdom flows like gentle hands,
To heal and mend from near and far.

Through nights of toil and days of strife,
His love remains a constant shore,
A steadfast sail in seas of life,
A lighthouse on a distant moor.

For in his eyes, the world is seen,
With all its joys and all its pain,
Yet in his heart, a love serene,
Endures beyond the earthly chain.

A father’s love, though oft unseen,
Is more than words or fleeting grace,
It's in the quiet strength between,
A gentle touch, a warm embrace.

So let us cherish, deeply hold,
This love that time cannot erode,
For in a father's heart unfolds,
A legacy of love bestow he il