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The Father
I stand here and look out, upon his face,
And this is the difference a baby makes,
My child sits there, next to his mom,
Crying and screaming like someone set off a bomb,
My heart skips a beat and starts to ache,
As my baby, for the first time, begins to wake,
I feel my every sin being washed away,
Purged from the heart that I know today,
Suddenly, I feel I’d do anything,
To protect the small thing in front of me,
Staring into those big, blue, eyes,
I’m thinking of all the useless lies,
That I’ve told to people for reasons old,
Near I was, my soul close to sold,
But I was brought back by that figure in the crib,
The one whom I struggle to simply bib,
So think not wrong, make no mistake,
This is the difference that a little babies make,
To their fathers,
To their mothers,
And to all the others.
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