… rantings of a depressive procrastinator. Did I mention, I write? …

Go, my daughter

recalling June 7, 2001

I was, I thought, convincing.
I swore to want nothing of you nor for you
other than happiness—and—and
that you fulfill your destiny.

Here you are, on the verge of it.

Wedding the only man
—besides your Dad—
who holds your heart,

who loves you more than himself,
and lets you dance—head back, eyes closed–
           your bare toes now on his shoes.

Take your dark eyes and dark curls to his land
take your sweet soft fingers
make sweet soft love
and sweet soft children
and years and years of peaceful pleasure.

In a dream, in your youth and mine,
I saw this day, this man,

And I saw him
seeing you,
wonder in his eyes.

I was so sure of him then
who now flies away with my joy.

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