He sat at His desk writing the next one..... 

Quill and black ink met with white parched paper 

It was the year 1983 

This was a story about a Father's love for His daughter.

   

He made sure she was protected 

Cushioned from the world around her 

As he guided her in her journey into a green and blue place, a whole new experience.   

He thought about all the lessons he'd taught her over the years 

All the love he'd shown her 

Would she be loved in the same way? 

When she gets to the green blue place?  

He would be with her as he always has 

Watch her take her first steps 

As she falls and gets back up again 

Tries again, stands again 

He would blow kisses her way, put smiles on her face 

Hold her tears in a bottle   

And release them into an ocean of joy.   

He sat in his garden writing...... 

Ballpoint pen met with thin white paper 

It was almost the midnight of a new year 

This was a story about a Father's love for His daughter.  

He was entrusting her in the care of another 

Another whose story He'd written many years ago 

He had just started a chapter in that book 

And His daughter's character had a part to play in that.   

In His kitchen, He wrote 

A story about a Father's love for His daughter 

Chocolate chips and honey met the pale white flour dough.   

As He threw the flour dough in the air, He remembered how He carried His daughter in His arms and swung her in the air 

Amidst glees of laughter 

She knew He'd always be there to catch her   

He thought about the time she fell and scraped her knee, how He kissed it and told her everything will be alright 

He thought about how His heart swells up with pride knowing she is His daughter 

Would she be loved in the same way? 

When she gets to the white pages of the next chapter?

He would be with her as He always has 

Watch her take her first steps 

Carry her when she walked on water  

And set her down on solid ground 

He would show her who His character has been in all the chapters 

And how He is in the midst of this one.   

As ink touched paper 

He sat at His desk and wrote.    

(c) Susie I Amadasun 2021