"He really fought for you, didn't he?!" They asked me,
Was the battle brutal, did he get hurt?
Was he okay? Did you see him cry? Did he have a moment for himself? Did he fight hard enough?
These were questions hammered in my brain, everytime looking at an answer,
And then I looked at him, there was something about him which have me solace, a solace which couldn't be explained in words, it was a feeling, like he was enough,
For everything he did or he didn't do,
He was enough,
For even when there was tea and biscuits for a dinner or lunch, it was enough,
He was always enough.
Dad, the unspoken Warrior.