Father's Day Poem


By Linda M. Sharp



Once upon a time, so very long ago
A single man sat on a couch, clutched his remote control.
His life belonged to only HE, with the occasional YOU
Weekends could start at noon or one, hungover maybe two.

Watching sports could take all day, farting was in solace
Eating crap was just the norm, until you gave him your kiss.
Down the aisle walked the bride, the sweat it trickled down his side.
Man and wife, the preacher said, Now his bachelor days were dead!

Surprisingly a year went by, calm, content, and happy.
He could still watch ESPN, and eat his food so crappy.
She was not out to change the man, for nature had a better plan
At two weeks past the one year line, a tiny test showed a plus sign.

He strutted 'round as if to say, I scored a goal! Hurrah! Hooray!
And then it started to sink in, as he wiped the vomit from her chin.
I caused all these changes in my lady
I'd best prepare for the coming baby.

Reading books and adding words to his vocabulary,
He talked of amniotic sacs and lanugo, oh so hairy.
The ultrasound did seal his fate, his eyes they opened wide
Upon the screen a precious girl, and then those eyes, they cried.

She arrived, he cut the cord, he even held her first
The pride he just could not contain, I thought that he would burst.
Now granted he could not change her pants, without giving a helpless glance
The poop it was all new to him, especially upon his skin!

As she has grown, those bachelor days, they seem such distant thoughts
He's forced to watch the Tubbies romp, no time for sports play-offs.
He hums the tunes from Barney, even while in meetings
Doesn't know who tops the charts, there's no more concert seatings.

Weekends now start at 6am, hangovers are no more
A late night now means 10pm, asleep, a roaring snore.
Now if he farts, its for effect, it makes the children laugh
They cannot find that "elephant", but they can smell it passed.

Bottom of the food chain, his needs they come dead last
But that's ok, for he does know, that they will grow up fast.
No more "king of his castle", but him it does not bother
For on "his" day, they made a crown and wrote, I Love You, Father.






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