Fathers, be good to your daughters;
daughters will love like you do.
you are the strength and the weight of her world
poetry
Stream her with roses and daisies, dear mother,
let all that she speak be all that that she hears.
For no higher, no higher let her forehead doth grow;
and so dote, dote my mother, my mother so dear
and let her run free with a conscience so clear
Brew me a sky and a heaven to go, I'm running away to the edge of the sand I'm wringing out tears and gold wedding bands So that pity can rain down like salt.
Hug me, I'm lonely.
he told me that I've done alright and kissed me till the morning light