The Sixth of June

Of all the days I hold most dear,
One rises bright and warm and clear.
No spring bloom, nor harvest moon—
Can touch the light of the sixth of June.

For that’s the day the world first knew
The spark of light God placed in you.
With tiny hands and fragile frame,
You came to us—and life became.

That morning, joy and fear entwined—
Your heartbeat small, your soul divine.
Wires and tape, a NICU bed,
Yet still you shone. Still tears were shed.

I held you close—your breath, your skin—
And felt a fire start within.
A father’s love, both fierce and new,
A vow unspoken: I’ll fight for you.

Each night I sang a cowboy tune,
A lullaby beneath the moon.
“Daily Bread” became our song,
Of love that lasts your whole life long.

And now you rise—so strong, so bright—
A daughter, sister, beacon light.
You face the world with open hands,
A heart that loves, a soul that stands.

You’ve weathered storms, and still you smile,
With faith that stretches every mile.
You lift, you serve, you give your best—
Now, you’ve left the nest, but not my chest.

So go, dear Kaycee, shine and roam,
And make the hearts of strangers home.
I’ll cheer you on, though skies may gray—
My thoughts will follow you every day.

For twenty years I’ve watched you grow,
From NICU lights to sunsets’ glow.
The years have flown, but still I swoon—
For I love, most of all, the sixth of June.

DocBott