Looks with melancholy from the window of her room,
Hopes to see him striding down the path,
Needs to have him hold her as he wipes away her gloom,
He knows just how to make his daughter laugh.
Teddy had been naughty so she’d thrown him on the floor,
Saw the buttons fly and stitches break,
Shed her tears while thinking of the punishment in store,
The thought of it was more than she could take.
There, at last he’s coming she can see him on the way,
Picks up teddy finds the buttons two,
When he sees her teddy now she wonders what he’ll say
Will he fix it with her hand held paper glue?
“Where’s my darling daughter?” she can hear him at the door
Looks at broken teddy by her side,
For a change she’s silent as she creeps across the floor
Tempted now to run away and hide.
Daddy enters quickly and he gives a cheery call
Sees his girl in tears standing still
Puzzled asked the question, “Did your teddy take a fall?”
Tries to hold her tears but lacks the will.
Daddy takes his daughter dear enfolds her in his arm
Carries her and teddy to his den,
There repairs the teddy and restores it’s former charm
And now has daughter smiling once again.
Are you going to punish me for breaking teddy bear?
A fearful face upon this little elf
Daddy hugs and kisses her, “Would that be really fair?”
Tears are surely punishment itself.
“© Copyright Ian Grice 2011 All rights reserved”
ianscyberspace 
That is an interesting new title – a “bush poet” — seems very appropo for your Dad since he was not living in a hugh city of any sort. Well, bush pilots, bush babies – why not bush poets!?! lol
I do enjoy your work as you well know. Talk more later in the
week; August(up here) would be would be ?? comparably down under- February?
Cheers,
Jim the Fee
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Hey! It is Sunday up here. So the weekend is coming to a close.
You have an excellnt week coming up! Talk to you more on other issues during the week. Keep posting those excellent stories. For a person with (as you call it) “no background” you certainly have
“a way with words” But, as we both know, the Celtic blood in both our backgrounds almost clinches our chances of being storytellers!
I can’t claim the poetry “gene” that you seemed to have gotten from you dad.
Cheers,
Jim the Fee
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Oh yes, my Dad was a great story teller, and a fairly good “bush poet”into the bargain. lol.
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Very, very nice. No punishment needed for sure. What a sweet, sweet picture that was painted in my mind as I read these words. Another great poem sweet Ian! Hugs
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That poem was partly based on an actual happening.
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Hey! Ian – that’s a fine piece of work!! I sense an allegory here? Enherent in the story of the little girl breaking “teddy” and its aftermath is a story of every father and daughter relationship in both their lives. From small incidents to greater issues that will face the daughter and her father as she grows to womanhood and he toward the inevitable state of grandfather hood; and the cycle begins again!!
Cheers,
Jim the Fee
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Yes, I suppose the keywords are trust and understanding. If you have that you have a healthy relationship between the generations for life.
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beautifully written.. she sure is a daddy’s girl.. :-).. all kids adore their teddy bears, or their stuffed animals, if anything happens to it there needs to be a man like the dad in this poem who can make it all perfect again.. 😀
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Thanks for visiting. Children are a precious gift to be nurtured and protected until they are old enough to fend for themselves.
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