Stepfathers of grown children find the grace
To love beneath a banner of their own.
Each is more than friend, though not by blood;
Parent, yet not part of childhood;
Father, yes, in truth, but not in stone.
Arms open ever to our long embrace,
They give to us what's theirs to give alone:
Hearts unhindered by a child's good,
Ears unhampered by what words we would,
Regard deep rooted in a single tone
Shared through fondness for a single face.
done by christine