Pencil and Paper: A Paternal Love

In the quiet dawn of morning light,

A pencil dances, sleek and bright,

Upon the paper, pure and white,

A story of paternal might.

With steady hand and tender care,

The pencil sketches dreams to share,

Each line a promise, strong and rare,

Of love that’s always, always there.

The paper listens, soft and kind,

To every thought the pencil’s lined,

A canvas where two hearts are twined,

A bond unbreakable, defined.

Through smudges, tears, and moments rough,

The pencil’s grip remains enough,

To trace the path, though times are tough,

With love’s own mark, both firm and soft.

As years go by, the pages fill,

With wisdom, courage, strength of will,

The pencil writes, its mission still,

To guide, to cherish, and to thrill.

So, may we always understand,

The love within a father’s hand,

A pencil’s touch on life’s expanse,

A paper’s trust in each romance.