By Poulomi Biswas
In the quiet corners of a house so bare,
A father paints dreams, colors here and there.
Each stroke of his brush whispers her name,
Decorating his life with love, never the same.
He works long hours in a job he despises,
Building a future where no storm arises.
Not for himself, but for her gentle smile,
For the day she steps in, stays for a while.
He knows deep down why her mother is gone,
Blames his harsh words, regrets what he’s done.
But never a word of blame will he say,
He holds love for them both, in his own quiet way.
For his daughter’s joy, he hides his pain,
In every effort, in every gain.
Waiting for the day she’ll truly see,
Why he couldn’t stay, why they ceased to be.
One day she’ll grow, and he’ll find the nerve
To tell her the truth she deserves.
But till then, he toils, building a home,
For the daughter he loves, and for her alone.
~p0loz