A msn so near in memory,
but so far away in reality.
The scent of your cigarettes
and cologne linger.
Your coat still hangs in the closet.
Your guitar leans against the wall,
Dusty-Just like you left it.
Pictures of you fill the room.
Your laughs
and the claims that I'm your "baby girl"
all echo through the halls of our house.
Please come back Daddy.
Soon the smells will be gone.
Your coat all packed away,
and your guitar shoved in a case.
The pictures of you will soon be replaced
by other men that dared to stay.
Before you know it,
your "baby girl" will no longer be
and your face is just a memory.
Adding your comment: