All the time in the world
couldn’t buy us a second chance
all my soul outdated
black and white photographs
in an old scrapbook under the bed,

and I don’t care if I’m sad
because sometimes you come back to me
in my glassy little tears
and it’s been years
since I called you father
I would much rather you
be here instead of tasting
the sky, testing its colour.

Life would be fuller
if you weren't playing
hide and seek with your father
instead of my Grandfather.
And sometimes it hurts less
when I praise the father we share,
thank Him for lending me you
if only for a short time.

You had eighteen years to teach me
to be brave
and in my aviary
all the birds
are now in the sky.

In the forest my trees grow tall
and whilst sometimes,
even amongst my family
I feel so small in comparison
to the expanse of everything we lost.

And you tell me always,
both of you,
there is so much treasure in you:
you were made for so much,
and you are going to give it away.
Girls with less confidence and
low self esteem are going to find
their own gold by sharing in the trinity
along with you.

And you,
infinite patience,
my lovely gentle giant
with such beautiful imperfections.

How glad I am that
the night the sky turned,
though we were mad at each other,
I turned to you and said,
"I love you, Daddy."
And you told me the same.

And whilst I tell you every day,
you reply only in my soul.
Come rest in me and be made whole.

The End

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