By Mark Constance
He rose before the sun each day
Work shoes laced tight—no time to stay
Coffee black, the news left on—
Warmed up the car, and just like that … gone
He worked with grit, not polished charm
A steady back, and tattooed arm
His words were few, his smiles rare
But he was always, always there
In his way
He wasn’t soft. He wasn’t sweet
He barked commands, not kind repeats
But when life knocked us off our track
He’d fight like hell to pull us back
In his way
His love came not in ribboned bows
No tender verse, no pretty prose
But in warm coats when cold winds rose
In calloused hands and car repairs
In fixing things with quiet care—
A steady heart that’s always there
In his way
He made mistakes. He missed some calls
He carried pride that built high walls
But through it all, we came to know
The quiet love that didn’t show.
So here’s to dads who bear the load,
Who walk the hard and quiet road.
Not perfect men—but strong and true—
Who show their love the way they do.
Happy Father’s Day!
