The Memoir Of Ms. Butterfly

It’s easy to claim the title,
harder to earn the name—
late nights, early mornings,
hands that shape and guide a flame.

We call them superheroes,
The ones who stay, who teach,
Who builds love brick by brick,
Who answers every call?

If I could think of my father,
He’d be my first love,
The one who taught me love—
But instead, I look above.

A fatherless daughter,
Wishing well to the ones who stand,
Who shows up, who carries?
Who teaches love by hand?

Happy Father’s Day
to the ones who stay.

Ms. Butterfly Genesis