Da Da

“Da da!” she exclaims,

As she embarks on an exploration

Of a new cupboard,

Or sets out to conquer

The pile of dirty dishes

With her Daddy.

“Da da!” she exclaims,

Sometimes, with a delighted smile

As she looks at me,

And sometimes not thinking of me

At all,

But merely expressing

An overflowing heart

Of joy.

Some fathers might have corrected her

To clarify the term,

To remind her that “Da da”

Means me,

The guy who loves her

Beyond what she can imagine.

But not I—

No, I merely smile,

Happy at the thought

That my name

Is synonymous

With inexpressible

Delight.