This is my first shot at free verse. Constructive feedback would be appreciated.
He sits at the foot of my bed
His words a river
Filling the empty lake
Of his daughter’s soul.
Those days when my spine quivers,
He becomes the mountain at my back.
When I worry myself into a knot
He is an ancient tree
His large trunk supporting me
And his broad canopy sheltering me.
On my worst days, he is
Laurel & Hardy and Abbot & Costello.
Some days my hope lags.
I can see his, a wildflower
hiding under the leaves.
He is a fierce wolf
curled up with his pups.
Why use so many words
When one will do?
Father.
His words a river
Filling the empty lake
Of his daughter’s soul.
Those days when my spine quivers,
He becomes the mountain at my back.
When I worry myself into a knot
He is an ancient tree
His large trunk supporting me
And his broad canopy sheltering me.
On my worst days, he is
Laurel & Hardy and Abbot & Costello.
Some days my hope lags.
I can see his, a wildflower
hiding under the leaves.
He is a fierce wolf
curled up with his pups.
Why use so many words
When one will do?
Father.
Bearing Untold Stories 
‘I can see he’s a wildflower
hiding under the leaves.
He’s a fierce wolf
curled up with his pups.
Why use so many words
When one will do?
Father.’
Good read, Cynthia. 🙂
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Rewrite based on feedback.
He sits at the foot of my bed
His words a river
Filling the empty lake
Of his daughter’s soul.
Those days when my spine quivers,
He becomes the mountain at my back.
When I worry myself into a knot,
He is the quiet evening soothing me.
On my worst days, he is
Laurel & Hardy and Abbot & Costello.
On days when my hope lags,
he shows me his, a wildflower
hiding under the leaves.
Why use so many words
When one will do?
Father.
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