Age Rating: 13 +
By Barbara J. Robinson
Published by Southern Poetry Association, 1992
The Lord took my someone special away,
when I was only four years old,
one cold Christmas Day.
My someone special once held me tight,
rocked me, as he sung to me every night,
swung me high as a kite,
but suddenly he was gone,
leaving me all alone.
There's never been another someone special,
not like him.
He'd walk me to the store,
singing songs he knew before, and
some he made up, just for me,
holding my hand, towering above me,
he was such a big man.
I've met a lot of men in my life.
Some have even tried to hold me tight.
But I've never met one that could compare to you.
I was a little lost girl without a daddy, and
a stepdaddy, just didn't do.
Once you were gone,
there were no more songs.
There was only an empty place in my heart,
that you used to fill, and
only part of me was left to heal.
The little girl that you used to love had to grow up overnight,
in an ugly-adult world.
She was gone,
leaving in her place,
a young girl with hard, knowing eyes,
missing her daddy, as she watched the night skies.
For it was Christmas; she was four, and
she knew her daddy no more.