You could cradle the infant once and one thousand times never long to return for another embrace.
One thousand scraped knees I could get, but not one Band-aid or kiss would you offer.
One thousand candles I could blow out, but not one “Happy Birthday” song would you sing.
One thousand turns on the dance floor I could perform but not once would I dance on the top of your toes.
One thousand oil changes, leaky faucets, decisions to decide, I could of used your help, and all I would decide and do without you.
One thousand times I could walk down the aisle in a white dress, but you would never offer your arm.
One thousand smiles my children could give, but not once would I know if their smile was like their grandfather’s.
One thousand tears shed in a thousand elsewheres, but not a single one would be caught in a father’s hand.
The Thread Is Red 