My Daddy's Day

In childhood days there stood a house
With a big front porch swing
Where after work my dad would bring
His guitar out and sing
Old saintly hymns or gospel tunes,
Whatever came to mind
They all flowed from that front porch
Till way past my bedtime.

There, Daddy bounced me as his foot
Kept cadence to the tunes,
And after dark the lightning bugs
Made shadows on the moon.

But treasured more are all the times
I heard my daddy pray
Before the sun peeped in my room,
And Dad started his day.

Copyright © Imogene Johnson