Daddy in a Little Box

Daddy worked in a little watch box with a tiny pot belly stove,
He would watch for trains coming  hauling heavy loads,
He’d make the gates go up & down & make sure cars stopped.
He was a watchman for the railroad, much like a traffic cop.

He’d sit inside that little box & talk to everyone going by,
They sure liked my daddy, even though he was quite shy.
His smiles came from deep within, lightening  up his handsome face.
Everyone loved seeing him, in that little box encased.

I would visit Daddy when I would walk downtown.
I’d sit there for hours, watching people walk around.
They’d stop by and talk awhile & leave with much regret,
I sure loved sitting there, liking all the people I just met.

That little box was Daddy’s house when Daddy wasn’t home.
It didn’t have a bathroom, a light, not even a telephone.
But what kept drawing me there & making me love it so,
Was that precious little box held my Daddy, so off I would go!

The last trip home I went to where the little watch box stood.
There was nothing left of that little box, not one scrap of wood.
But I had my precious memories and I felt so warm inside.
Standing there remembering Daddy, my heart filled with pride.

Written by memories,
Love you Daddy