To My Daughter ©

By Ben Bustillo. Prohibited its reproduction – In progress

My baby, my girl, the mother, the wife,

The early teenager who one day came to live with me,

The daughter when baby one time in my lap I had,

Chanting stories of the days that were about to come…

I sang her one-day she would cook for me,

A soup, or some beans, a Colombian meal,

Is now a grown woman amazing me all day,

In each journey she tackles in her every new ordeal…

Wakes up every time James has a need of her,

Runs to protect the system she is in,

A husband, a son, a house to maintain,

How blissful she looks when I see her every day…

Proud as a man or a father can be,

I look yesteryears to see what I did,

Thinking that I could have done a little bit more,

Wait, what did I say? She is looking to me so pretty well…

Another baby is on his or her way,

And prepared she is to engage in her new day after day,

A son, a husband a home and the wish of a girl,

But even a new son, is welcome as well…

My baby, my girl, the mother, the wife,

The woman that now she has become to be,

The daughter I admire and proudly I say,

You are such a woman, that as a father I ostentatiously display…