We always took turns sitting on our daddy’s lap
after he got home from work and he hung up his cap
he would plop in his chair with crocheted doilies on the arms
he was tired and thirsty but succumbed to his little girls’ charms
he would wrap his arms around us and pet our heads with his big calloused hands
but we didn’t care if they were scratchy; we were his biggest, little fans
Our daddy’s lap could hold all four of us, little girls
we would snuggle in and fill his face with all our bouncy curls
The picture of us sitting altogether there, I hadn’t noticed till this day
while we never expressed a care in the world, daddy’s face was a tired display
Our daddy filled our happy spot
when we girls were just four little tots
Daddy’s lap didn’t last forever. next would come four little boys,
They weren’t as demanding as we had been. They would instead be playing with toys
Our daddy’s loving hands showed he cared, and he always opened them wide
A place where all of us little girls felt utterly safe and looked up at him with pride
