riding high on shoulders,
held by warm hands,
playing at being kidnapped,
being encompassed by love...

i grew out of adoring my dad
a long long time ago, it seems now.
i grew up, and realised he was
arrogant, bitter, cynical, and
i don't want to list them all,
because it just makes me want to cry.

i grew out of adoring my dad
a long long time ago, and sometimes
i wonder if i didn't grow out
of loving him too.

when i remember the days
when dad was my hero,
when he never did anything wrong
and i was always counting the minutes
until he came home,
it makes me want to cry.

where did those days go?
when did the rose-tinted lenses
slip from my eyes
to shatter on the floor?

it must've been the day
i exchanged them for the ability
to see him with the eyes
of an adult: they judged, and weighed,
and somehow he fell short.

it must've been the day
these hard new eyes proved
they could still cry.

and he was there
when i cried because i thought
that i'd lost him
and he said,
"that's what parents do,"
even if he didn't understand
why i was crying, and his guesses
were all completely wrong,
he was there.

the hug was awkward,
because i'm too tall now for him
to gather me against his chest,
but his hands were still warm
and his love was still there.

he told me
"don't worry,
i'm here,"
"don't stress,
you can do it."

and when i said
"it's not that,
i just want you to know
i love you,"
it wasn't his words
but the way he didn't hesitate
that made me want to cry all over again.