Clamped on the head by her father's hands of love
This little girl sits as her father makes patterns with her hair.
In her little mind
She wonders about the woman she shall become.
In the safety of her father's clasp
She counts the lines on her palms
She looks into his eyes and beholds the depth of his love for her
She leans into his heart
And feels the permanent impression of his love tattooed on her face
At night she lays in the warmth of his bedtime stories.
By her bedside he stayed
Lovingly he touched his lips to her innocent face while she slept.
They both knew tomorrow will come
When his little princess shall be a mum
Blessed of nature with her little sprite
Whose curls shall be patterned alike with love
By the hands of a man she shall also call 'father'.
