In the corner of my childhood's glow,
Where laughter danced and memories flow,
Some called him Peepaw, with a grin so wide,
But to me, he was Dad, my comforting guide.
With roughened hands that held my dreams,
He wove his love through sunlight beams,
Telling tales of days long gone,
In his gentle voice, the world felt warm.
His laughter rang like a sweet refrain,
In the heart of the home, where joy would reign,
Through scraped knees and midnight fears,
He stood beside me, calming my tears.
With every lesson, wise and true,
He painted my skies in vibrant hues,
A fishing line cast into time’s vast sea,
Where every moment became part of me.
We’d roam the woods, his stories spun,
Under the watch of the golden sun,
And though to some, he’d wear that name,
To me, he was Dad—and nothing’s the same.
In the quiet hours, when shadows grew,
I’d share my dreams, and he'd find the few
That flickered softly like stars above,
Guiding my heart with a father’s love.
So here’s to the man of gentle grace,
A name may change, but love leaves a trace,
Some called him Peepaw, but I called him Dad,
The roots of my spirit, my heart's only lad.
Though time may march and seasons turn,
In every lesson, I still discern,
That love is a bond, unbreakably clad,
In my heart, forever—he’s still my Dad.