Why I Help Her

I don't help her out of guilt.
I don't help her because I must.
I don't help her out of
a misplaced lack of trust.
It's not that a sense
of paranoia overtakes me.
It's not that potential
self-sufficient independence shakes me.
It's not that I have to
help and be there for her.
It's that I love her so much
I will help her with any endeavor.
It's that the love I have
will overflow in any possible
way one could imagine
because it is improbable.
Even I could not dream
I would love or even care
for my little girl this way,
the one who is always there.
She always has a smile
when I have a frown.
She always has words
of encouragement when I'm down.
She always picks the right
moment for a hug
or a sweet "I love you, daddy"
from my lady bug.
She is always there
for me no matter what.
The question is not why help her;
the question is how could I not?