He’s Not Perfect, But He’s Mine
ye
“He loved me loudly, imperfectly, and in ways I didn’t understand until I grew up.”
My father isn’t a perfect man,
He never fit the flawless plan.
With temper flares and gentle ways,
He raised me through both storm and praise.
He’d scold, then hug, then scold once more,
A mix of love I couldn’t ignore.
His rules were tough, his tone was loud,
But looking back, today I’m proud.
As a child, I found it strange,
His love came wrapped in sudden change.
But now I see, with clearer eyes,
He too was growing, learning wise.
He tried to shield me from his pain,
So I won’t walk those roads again.
His choices flawed, his past not neat,
Yet still, he stood on tired feet.
At sixteen, I would roll my eyes,
At every word he tried to advise.
But now at twenty-five, I see,
His heart was always there for me.
You see, my father is my light,
My steady hand in darkest night.
He didn’t have the world to give,
But gave his all, and taught me to live.
With hands worn rough from years of fight,
He laid the slabs I stand on right.
He worked, he prayed, he gave, he bled,
So dreams I dreamed could bloom instead.
He believed in me through every doubt,
Pushed me forward, cheered me out.
No envy dimmed his burning flame,
He only wanted me to claim…
A life of joy, a worthy name.
To the man who held my heart with care,
Even when I wished he wasn’t there.
To the shield I didn't think I’d need
Whose love was shown in every deed…
He's not perfect, but he's mine.
Ikechukwu Celina Chinwemmeri