by Cadence Cedars
Dads, weary from long days,
Craft small wooden boats,
Each one a labor of love,
Shaped from weathered wood and string.
These children clutch their treasures,
Carrying them everywhere,
Tiny fingers wrapped tightly around the string,
Hearts racing as they dash along the river.
They watch their boats glide,
Dancing across the shimmering water,
Creating ripples that whisper tales
Of laughter in the sun.
With every splash, they see,
distant shores,
the waves growing around them.
Soon, these kids will learn,
To carve their own stories in wood.
