Missing Daddy
Every day I pluck a daisy from the field
under the hot summer sun.
I pull off its petals, one by one.
He’ll come home
He won’t come home
He’ll come home
He won’t come home
He’ll come home
Autumn arrives.
The field cools.
It gets harder to find daisies blooming,
but there are still a few.
Hope floats in a fog in front of my face
as I chant in the chilly air.
He’ll come home
He won’t come home
He’ll come home
One cold morning in November,
I pull the last petal
off the last daisy in the field.
He’ll come home
under the hot summer sun.
I pull off its petals, one by one.
He’ll come home
He won’t come home
He’ll come home
He won’t come home
He’ll come home
Autumn arrives.
The field cools.
It gets harder to find daisies blooming,
but there are still a few.
Hope floats in a fog in front of my face
as I chant in the chilly air.
He’ll come home
He won’t come home
He’ll come home
One cold morning in November,
I pull the last petal
off the last daisy in the field.
He’ll come home
This poem is copyright (©) Jennifer Thomas 2026
About the Writer
Jennifer Thomas
Jennifer is a Canadian children's poet whose work has been published in various places, including The Dirigible Balloon’s Sky Surfing anthology. Jennifer comes up with her best ideas for poems while she’s walking her dog, and as a result her dog gets lots of walks. This makes her dog very happy. Visit her online at jenniferthomaswords.com.
