In the hush of dawn before day breaks, he rises gently, though his body aches. Mr. Desmond our shelter in the rain, a quiet warrior carrying silent pain. He bends but never breaks beneath life’s load, a lantern burning on a shadowed road. When hope feels lost and days grow cold, He turns our worries into dreams of gold. Through storms that roar like angry drums, He stands his ground no matter what comes. A mountain rooted, strong and wise, with courage shining in his tired eyes. His hands are scars, his heart a flame, yet he gives his all without seeking fame. He weaves our comfort from threads so thin, making ends meet with sheer will within. Oh father, your love is a steady light, a moon that guides us through the darkest night. Your sacrifice an unspoken song, that makes our fragile spirits strong. A father like no other, forever true, the world may not see, but we always do. Your name Desmond etched in our hearts, a masterpiece of love, a lifetime of parts.