To Father

a child flings her father to the moon remembers a need not present and, empty, leaves as a moment vanishes. throwing caution to the wind she dips like a swallow a room full of noise envelops her mind and he stands there watching. a butterfly looks back noting a subtle crease in her once warm home she nods in acknowledgement then spreads her colors wide and flies killing all hope that she is as she was: malleable. I fall into your arms like an ocean you rock me away, though eventually I have come to see your tides bring me under your sand chokes me like a child I cry that serene image now lost. the child picks up a shell a rock a leaf to add to a pack rat’s collection but one day she must choose – which will she keep? you try to shape-shift me into what I’d like to be lead me down a path with no one by my side. I am not a student lessons mean nothing I have no one to run home to after a day in your office. I am a swallow a butterfly but most of all a child your child I will take what you have given me so graciously and once again I’ll fly.