Father

Broken armor, battered sword.

No stone unturned, broken not was a single word

For his family he gladly bled,

Grateful to him for the life I have led.

Searing sun, scorching heat, not a word he said

It is his sacrifices that has put the roof over my head.

He tiwnkled while giving away his blood, sweat and tears,

To that warrior, I owe overcoming all my fears.

When times were grim, circumstances dire

For his family he gladly faced the line of fire.

His empty belly, the dreams he had to shed

It was his loving heart that ensured that our souls were fed.

For our little smile, he shed himself down to zero

But, tell me.

Isn’t your father your hero?!