With starlit eyes, my father told, Of worlds where futures brave unfold. In pages worn and tales surreal, His sci-fi worlds became my real. Through ancient sands, with careful hands, He mapped the past in foreign lands. The stories dust and stone ensured, In them, my love for lore matured. Beneath the trees, where stories woke, We'd sit and read, where rivers spoke. The great outdoors, our ceaseless muse, In nature's presence, we'd both lose. On Father's Day, this truth I find, The love of worlds my dad designed. In every book, in earth and sky, His legacy, I'll cherish, fly.