Birth Father

I never notice eyes, but

His and mine are the same

Both brown in color

And sharing matching names.

Some say they hold truth,

Windows into the soul.

Mine are cloudy, shattered glass,

A missing piece of a whole.

His eyes are full of

Memories, scattered over time

They hold me steady,

And keep my path aligned.

He has been hurt by many hands,

Yet mightier than the pain.

It echoes in its sound,

But a fighter he remains.

I have known strong men

Called heroes decorated with honor,

But nothing can surpass

How it feels to be his daughter.

Although we have been distant

And time has played its part.

The future looks both bright

and Long, for two deserving, loving hearts.