where you weren't, he is

You missed the mornings I waited alone, Dad—silent house, cold kitchen stone. No rods, no tools, no calls, no plans, Just echoes in place of your hands. But love has a way of rewriting the script, With soft-spoken strength and a calloused grip. My boyfriend showed up with tackle and bait, Teaching me patience beside the lake. He cast the line I thought long gone, Reeled in smiles where hurt had drawn. Held my hand not to control, But to heal the girl you left unwhole. Where you never stood, he quietly stands, Grease on his shirt, wrench in his hands. He taught me to turn and tighten and mend, What you left broken, he helps to bend. No need for titles or blood to prove— Love is a verb, not something you lose. And while you drift like the boat you never bought, He anchors me steady, in word and in thought. So here’s to the man who never walked out, Who casts beside me, calm and stout. You may be gone, but I’ve found my way— In love that shows up, and chooses to stay.