Tuesday, April 27

day when you come
be nice to my father
treat him like a child of ill,
with a lot of black tea and
don't care hugs of sleep.
take him with me around
sniffing his cheek like his
mother who loved him
and he who loved me;
tell him he can see me
in love and happy
and that he will always be there
in a dark shadow that is in me,
or that when i cry it is a child
of one remembering old songs
he made for welcoming sleep
to a little baby girl.
measure my love
and show him how i rush to
meet him.