Before I cut their cords,
my daughters gave me gifts,
and give them still.
Can I come up with words
that this father’s love shifts
through writing’s will?
The living warmth they share
in hard steel and black ink,
loves’ measures take.
One crafted chainmail fair,
protecting link by link
bones that did break.
One engraved a crow.
Black wings lift my soul
on high so I can see
the everlasting love
my family gives to me.
None of this could be
until wife shared freely
these gifts that live and give,
throughout eternity.
~ Wry Welwood
16th of July 2022
Dedicated to Cally, Remi, and Martha, my wife.
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