He said to me,
‘Every time I look into the mirror I see
The thinning hair, the bald patch on my head.
Every time I shave I see
The wrinkled skin of my neck
Every time I write I see
The white hair on my wrist.
I am growing old’
He said it matter-of-factly
The most special man in my life
The man I shall love the most
The man who always did everything right
But when he said this he broke my heart.
When he had held my little finger
And he had walked me my first steps
He should have told me then
That he will one day, silently walk away
And let me wander alone.
How could you Papa, break so easily
The promise that I thought you had made
That you’d be with me forever?