He never said much
not in the way stories
teach fathers to his love was
not loud it did not arrive in long speeches
or perfectly chosen words
it lived in smaller things
in the way he checked the
doors twice at night
as if the world itself needed
to be kept away from you
in the way he stood a little closer
when roads grew crowded
he was there
always there
but never asking to be seen
his hands told stories his
voice never did
rough with effort
tired in ways he never admitted
yet steady
always steady
you never noticed at first
how much of him was
quietly given away
days that began before yours
worries he carried so you
would not have to
dreams he folded and kept aside
just so yours could take shape
he did not teach you love
he showed you
in sacrifices that did not
announce themselves
in patience that never
demanded gratitude
in the silent belief
that you would become
something more
and somewhere along the way
you grew up
and he grew older
his steps a little slower
his hair touched by time
his voice softer
but still holding the same strength
that once held you
and suddenly
you begin to understand
why he stayed quiet
why he worked without complaint
why his love never needed to be spoken
because it was never meant to be heard only felt
in every unseen effort
in every unnoticed moment
in every piece of life he built around you
and one day
you will carry that love forward
in the same quiet way
because fathers do not just raise children
they leave behind
a way of loving
that speaks
even in silence
