Waiting for Dad

A poem about visitation or lack thereof

They wait by the door
Every Friday night.
Hoping they will see
His car come into sight.

"He called me on Tuesday,
Mom, he said he'd be here."
"Maybe he will, sweetheart"
I say, hugging her near.

But, what if he doesn't?
What will I say?
How can I make
The hurt go away?

Doesn't he realize
The extent of their pain?
When he doesn't show up,
The tears fall like rain.

It's so hard as a mother
To see your little ones upset.
Because you know what they are feeling,
They will not soon forget.

I've begged their father,
"Please, don't you lie,
You're not there to hold them,
When they break down and cry."

My daughters are wise,
Far beyond their years.
They comprehend more
With each lie they hear.

One day they'll confront him.
They will ask him why.
He shouldn't be surprised,
When they turn and say goodbye.