My dad is strong, stronger then any other person I know. He is a fighter, his hard head and skull makes him think big.

His arms, strong as a horse's leg, always there to catch you if you fall.
And his eyes, like the blue of the sky.
I wish I had those eyes.

The shape of his eyes are the shape of mine, like perfect almonds.
I have gotten his smart movements smooth and as wonderful as melted chocolate.

He gets tired fast, faster than the wings of a hummingbird beat.
He wants to play, to be active, he can't.
It holds him back from enjoyment

I play sports, any type of sport.
My dad watches me, proud all over his face. I run for him.
He loves running, and I do it for him.
Everything is for him, just like a momma bird is everything for her chicks.

But I keep on running, yes I do.
Running from my fears? Maybe.
Running toward a cure? Definitely.