High School graduation brings new beginnings and charished memories

I haven't written a poem in a very long time. When my kids were younger I traveled an average of 7 days a month. This poem which is in honor of my daughter graduating from high school was written about eleven years ago. It's based on conversations I've had with my daughter, McKenzie, usually during breakfast or in the car. I wrote this poem with tears in my eyes from Rye, New York. I was there doing a photo shoot. That evening in my hotel room I called home, like I did every night I was on the road, to talk to the family. When Kenzie got on the phone she was so excited to tell me about a boy in her, class that she liked, and was able to sit next to on the bus that day. I was happy and excited for her and her special day but sad knowing how much better this story would have been if she was sharing it while we had dinner that evening. Seeing the sparkle in her eyes and the tone of her voice sharing it for all to hear. With the conversation over I took a walk around the hotel grounds, went back to my room and poured out this poem for my daughter.

DADDY, DO YOU CRY?

It was a weekday morning, music in the air

Son was in the bathroom, combing his hair

My head was in the paper, while eating cornflakes

Daughter sat beside me, picking her breakfast, while staring into space

Daddy, she says in her soft quiet voice

Daddy, she says as she looks up from her bowl

Daddy, do you ever cry?

Daddy, why don’t you cry?

Sweet child of mine with the curious mind

Try to understand, understand if you can

Sorrow is a feeling that you don’t usually see

I keep it hidden, deep within me

Happiness is present and seen most every day

But even my most joyful thoughts

Are rarely on display

Do I cry? Dear, yes I do

I cry the most, when I’m thinking of you

My first tear falls before you wake

Sunlight dancing, across your sweet face

I ask the golden glow that caresses your cheek

Become your suit of armor, as you sleep

With each new day I see you grow

Joy and sorrow the moisture hold

Each day I wake you from your sleep

Another tear for you I weep

Sorrow and Joy are not far apart

For tears don’t know the difference

When they fall or why they start

The heart knows the reason for each tear upon my cheek

I cherish the knowledge for which my heart speaks

You share with me excitement

About a boy in your class

A special friend, that makes your heart, beat “pitter-pat”

He sat beside you on the bus one spring day

A moment of your life, and mine I pray

I see you standing so proud upon the stage

Eyes scan the audience, you find strength to play

You firmly tuck your violin beneath your chin

Managing to smile, your fingers begin

Small fingers dance magic upon the strings

Bow massages the strings, the violin sings

The tears well up in my eyes each day

As I relive the moments from each passing day

You hold a special place in my heart

And that is where all the tears start

So when you asked me such a curious question

Daddy, do you cry?

My answer is now here on display

If you do not see a tear fall from my face

Rest assured, the right time, the right place

Your daddy does cry

Many tears fill your space.

Daddy, Do You Cry?

A very long time ago when my daughter was in about third grade, we were eating breakfast before school and she asked me, "Daddy, do you cry". I just responded by saying yes, of course I cry. I also used to travel a lot for my job and so I was usually gone about one week every month. I was in Rye, New York on a photoshoot when I called home one evening like I did every evening when I travelled. When it was my daughters turn to talk she told me with such excitement about a boy in her class that she liked and was able to sit next to on the bus during a field trip. I felt so bad that I wasn't at home while she was telling me so that I could see the joy and excitement on her face. I hung up the phone that night and wrote this poem with blurry eyes. I couldn't wait till my trip was over to share it with her so I called her back later than night, read her the poem, and we both cried a few tears. Fast forward about eight years and my little girl isn't my little girl anymore. She mostly keeps her thoughts to herself now, especially when it comes to her personal life. Oh well, I still have our poem.

Daddy, Do You Cry?

It was a weekday morning, music in the air
Son was in the bathroom, combing his hair
My head was in the paper, while eating cornflakes
Daughter sat beside me, picking her breakfast, while staring into space

Daddy, she says in her soft quiet voice
Daddy, she says as she looks up from her bowl
Daddy, do you every cry?
Daddy, why don't you cry?

Sweet child of mine with the curious mind
Try to understand, understand if you can
Sorrow is a feeling that you don't usually see
I keep it hidden, deep within me

Happiness is present and seen most every day
But even my most joyful thoughts
Are rarely on display
Do I cry? Dear, yes I do
I cry the most, when I'm thinking of you

My first tear falls before you wake
Sunlight dancing, across your sweet face
I ask the golden glow that caresses your cheek
Become your suit of armor, as you sleep
With each new day I see you grow
Joy and sorrow the moisture hold
Each day I wake you from your sleep
Another tear for you I weep

Sorrow and Joy are not far apart
For tears don't know the difference
When they fall or why they start
The heart knows the reason for each tear upon my cheek
I cherish the knowledge for which my heart speaks

You share with me excitement
About a boy in your class
A special friend, that makes your heart, beat "pitter-pat"
He sat beside you on the bus one spring day
A moment of your life, and mine I pray

I see you standing so proud upon the stage
Eyes scan the audience, you find strength to play
You firmly tuck your violin beneath your chin
Managing to smile, your fingers begin
Small fingers dance magic upon the strings
Bow massages the strings, the violin sings

The tears well up in my eyes each day
As I relive the moments from each passing day
You hold a special place in my heart
And that is where all the tears start

So when you asked me such a curious question
Daddy, do you cry?
My answer is now here on display
If you do not see a tear fall from my face
Rest assured, the right time, the right place
Your daddy does cry
Many tears fill your space.