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Things I miss the most

My daughter is training to be
one of the best chefs, the world's gonna see.
But I miss the opportunity to wake her up
with my clumsily made breakfast
of burnt toast, shabby omelettes and tea.

She sleeps on her bed, her head on a pillow.
Will it give her comfort like the lap of this fellow?
She listens to melodious music as she sleeps.
Will it sound just as sweet as this guy who bleats?

She travels to places, rich in all the urban splendor
Will they take her away from me, I often wonder.

Oh my daughter dearest,
I miss singing you a lullaby, however bad I sound.
I miss making you breakfast, shabby as it will be.
I miss patting you & talking long into the night.
I miss watching those eyes, as they slowly close to sleep.

I miss waking you up, my sleepy angel,
with a kiss on the forehead and a hug each day.
I miss holding your hand & walking you down to school,
I miss seeing you dance, as you were meant to be.
I miss watching over you, when you catch a cold.
But of all the things I miss, the thing I miss the most...




... is fifteen years of you.

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