My skin,
Milky white and
Lightly peppered with freckles,
Paled next to his
Caramel hue.
My eyes,
Gray as steel,
Yet blue as ice,
Never matched his chocolate brown.
But still they come,
Remarking of something,
The stride in my step,
The tone of my words,
The unsettling gaze,
Warm and cold together,
Something,
Tells them that I am
Daddy’s girl.
15
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About the Creator
Misty Rae
Retired legal eagle, nature love, wife, mother of boys and cats, chef, and trying to learn to play the guitar. I play with paint and words. Living my "middle years" like a teenager and loving every second of it!
Comments (2)
I am sure he is beaming with pride!
I never thought my dad was like my granddad but as my dad gets older, I see my granddad more and more and whilst I look like my dad, my husband says my posture and movement are his too which makes me really curious about how I move and how I look to other people. It messes with my mind! I liked your poem a lot.