New Poem
Father's Day
Today we celebrate you,
fathers. You know who you are:
the husbands and the single dads
you are the real deals, the MVPs,
the Hungry Jacks and Manwich men.
Whether you have a full head of hair
or are losing it strand by strand
we celebrate you,
because you value a woman’s opinion
because when the going gets tough,
you stay
because you know how to leave the cave
kill something and drag it back
every day.
Thanks for changing a diaper,
doing the 4 a.m. feeding,
playing catch after a 10-hour workday.
To the fathers, the dads, the pops, and the papis,
those who raise boys to be
brothers, husbands, and fathers,
and young women born to be
sisters, wives, and mothers,
thanks for being super men
even when you feel like Clark Kent,
mild mannered as the paint on the walls.
When you think your opinion doesn’t matter,
it does. When you think we aren’t listening, we are.
For all who say, “one day you’ll thank me for this,”
thank you.
Copyright 2006 January G. O'Neil
Today we celebrate you,
fathers. You know who you are:
the husbands and the single dads
you are the real deals, the MVPs,
the Hungry Jacks and Manwich men.
Whether you have a full head of hair
or are losing it strand by strand
we celebrate you,
because you value a woman’s opinion
because when the going gets tough,
you stay
because you know how to leave the cave
kill something and drag it back
every day.
Thanks for changing a diaper,
doing the 4 a.m. feeding,
playing catch after a 10-hour workday.
To the fathers, the dads, the pops, and the papis,
those who raise boys to be
brothers, husbands, and fathers,
and young women born to be
sisters, wives, and mothers,
thanks for being super men
even when you feel like Clark Kent,
mild mannered as the paint on the walls.
When you think your opinion doesn’t matter,
it does. When you think we aren’t listening, we are.
For all who say, “one day you’ll thank me for this,”
thank you.
Copyright 2006 January G. O'Neil
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