Dad Stuff

I can mend a fuse

I can change a wheel

I can bake a loaf

Can rustle up a meal

I can write a bedtime story

Or just read one if that’s OK

I can also start an argument

But prefer to walk away

I don’t know what this ‘Dad’ is

I never stopped to think

It doesn’t have instructions

At least none I have read

The role is an assumption

A pleasure and a curse

To try to be the best at it

But end up as the worst

To love them that is easy

To cry with sadness or pride

The Dad thing is a mystery

One which seems to hide

In dark corners of my day

And still moments late at night

I’m sure the best dad in the world prize

Will stay there on the shelf

To gather dust and cobwebs

Till one of them needs my



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