In the quiet space where shadows stay, I shape the clay and carve my way. A father’s face, both strong and kind, In every line, his love I find.
Wearing gear of military might, I stand in pride, though filled with fright. A guardian too, I search the skies, For signs of him, where spirit lies.
His eyes of stone hold memories clear, A promise whispered, always near. Though he’s gone, our hearts still beat, In this creation, our bond’s complete.
So here I stand, in grief and grace, A sculpture of love, a father’s face. In every curve, a story’s spun, Together still, though life moves on.
