Why I Write Poetries Part 2
All throughout I shooed the crooked thoughts away.
For a doll such as her Dolly, with her unrealistic
Curves and flawless skin, would be hard put to
Find comfort onboard daddy’s ship. She’d find
That loneliness is the least of a seaman’s concern.
There would be waves and stormy weathers, there
Would be winds and shark infested waters.
Importantly, there’ll be men who goes for months
At a time without a whiff of their wives’ smell.
But that time, of these things, she had no idea yet.
So even though chuckling deep inside with pent up
Malice and humor, I entreated God to keep my
Adult mind pure, make it that of a child, banish
28 years of worldly experience so during that
Magical time, a three year old and a doll spoke.
I write this poem now so that someday, upon these
Words, she’ll know she was once blissfully naïve.
And when life has finally thought her tough lessons,
Scarred her plenty, knocked her a few, she’ll understand
That we always make the best of what comes our way.
I’ll probably gift this to her on that most special day,
Amidst white laces and promises, flowers, lit
Candles and the flapping of white doves’ wings.
After she has read this, she’ll probably cry, or
Smile or both. But the tears then will be of happiness.
She’ll understand too, with that bond that ties
A daughter to her sire, that her poor father’s heart
Is breaking, not for lost comfort toys, but for innocence
Saying goodbye. And lo, whatever story she’ll tell
Or impersonation she’ll do (of why she’ll leave)…
…The child and poet in her father’s heart,
Will just have to believe.