My Dad – A Father’s Day Poem

My Dad

If there was an adventurer who agreed to enlist
in search of the awesomest father to ever exist,
He’d have to hunt every record throughout every land,
from the countries with mountains to those filled with sand.
When he was all finished, he’d return empty handed,
though I would not be surprised because that’s just how I planned it.
I already knew my father was the best.
I was only putting the world to the test.

Other dads are tiny trikes.
My Daddy is a car.
Other dads are ukuleles.
My Dad is a guitar.

Other dads are just a sprint.
My Daddy is the race.
Other dads are only hairline.
My Dad is the face.

My Daddy is a rock star. He’s a regular rambling ranger;
a stupendous super hero, dismissing every drop of danger.
He taught me how to read and then he taught me how to write.
I follow his example. That’s why I am polite.
He’s fantastic and he’s fun. He’s firm but always fair.
I’ve hung with other dads, of course, but they couldn’t compare.
Sometimes we go out fishing.  Sometimes we toss a ball.
My daddy tries to make the time for us to do it all.

Other dads are cute koalas.
My Dad is a Bear.
Other dads are invitations.
My Daddy is a dare.

Other dads are only branches.
My Dad is the trunk.
Other dads are ally oops.
My Daddy’s a slam dunk.

My Dad’s a Sunday breakfast filled with each and every fixing,
spread across the table with all the flavors mixing.
Pancakes next to muffins, bananas butting berries,
bacon next to sausage, across from all the cherries.
Hot chocolate flatters waffles, eggs improve with cheese,
all alongside orange juice – that of course has just been squeezed.

Other dads are only eyes.
My Dad’s a set of shades.
Other dads are two of hearts.
My Dad’s the Ace of Spades.

Other dads have shaky knees.
My Dad is always brave.
Other dads are mushy surf.
My Dad’s the perfect wave.

My Daddy is the greatest and to this I can attest.
Other dads, I’m sure are awesome.  Mine is still the best.
While other dads are slapping fives, my Daddy tosses ten.
He tells me that he loves me.  Then he tells me so again.
If you still don’t believe me, and think your dad’s the chief,
then I’ll just sit right here and shake my head in disbelief.

Writer Dad

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