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.