Girl of Mine

When I first saw her She was only a few hours old Instinctively kicking her long legs Howling To escape I knew then She was A fighter. Attracted To an old drawer I found Faded photos Forgotten pieces Of crumpled notepaper Their energy Taking me back To a time when Her hair was brownish gold Round face Took baths in a yellow tub Cradled in the kitchen sink And cried When her mother Worked on weekends. Eyes closed I remembered When she was seven or eight I would read to her While she played With her dolls Occasionally stopping To look up at me With her big brown eyes One night she asked Daddy do I have any friends? I told her she had many friends Imaginary friends too Like Ooh Poo Poo Doo Who would always be with her That’s a strange name Daddy, she said Brushing the hair From her eyes I said It’s not the name or how you say it It’s the friend that counts. One Spring day She came back home Tall Well dressed Confident Her friends crowded the living room As my wife and I left I smiled Remebering the words It’s not the name or how you say it It’s the friend that counts. Words My daughter Kept in her heart.