For every FATHER who gave everything, yet asked for nothing in return & hid what he felt. |
He treads a path both worn and steep, A silent sentinel, sworn to keep The weight of worlds upon his chest, Yet never once he stops to rest. He wears the crowns of many a role— A son, a guide, a heart made whole, A brother, husband, bound by grace, A father time cannot erase. The world decrees he must not break, To bend, to bow, but not forsake. His dreams deferred, his burdens vast, Yet still, he smiles—his love steadfast. A fortress built through toil untold, With hands now calloused, hearts turned gold. He hides his wounds, he veils his pain, For none must see where sorrows reign. His final crust, his tattered sole, A sacrifice none dare extol. Yet in the hush of midnight deep, His tears may fall, his grief may weep. The weight of years shall dim his frame, Yet whisper soft his hallowed name. For though unpraised, his truth remains, A father’s love—through joys and pains. No monument shall carve his tale, No echo sung upon the gale. Yet in the hearts he shaped and steeled, His legacy shall stand revealed. |