MY daddy’s got a boyish face,
So young you’d think he’s thirty-five,
But he’s on the wrong side of forty,
Wise in the ways of the world—and math.
Guys aren’t supposed to smell nice,
Daddy’s no exception.
But guy smells don’t change the way
I feel for him.
When friends ask me:
“So, what does your Daddy do?”
I wish they had a dictionary
To look up “audiologist.”
That’s very simply an ear expert,
One who helps folks hear better—
The deaf and kinda deaf ones:
That makes Daddy noble and important.
I don’t know if it’s because of his job,
But Daddy is a fine listener;
He listens not just with his ears,
But his eyes.
Cry when I must, cry when I have to,
The crying feels less awful
When I spill my sorrows
To my one dear guy audience.
He’d look me in the eyes
Through those geeky lenses:
“It’s a small matter,” he’d say, “It’s OK.”
And that’s why Daddy’s so cool.
With him, everything’s OK.
Edith Lee, Primary Four
For more essays by Edith, visit Edith Writes.
This is a special feature essay celebrating Father’s Day.
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