My Daughter at Power

She won’t be that doll pink and purple

Not of hair braided and side bunned

Neither the princess nor that fun

She won’t be of smiles and off her turn

She won’t be of curls and eyes

Neither the feathers nor the winged ones or lined

Neither sweet nor always right

She won’t be the evening hours

Neither of day nor of dark

She won’t be red on every twenty-ninth

She won’t ruin and grasp by your side


She’ll be twinkles studded in my eyes

She’ll be dignity loaded by my side

Of black and royal she shall rise

She’ll be the humming of bees

And the fire of flies

She’ll be the dawn that is mine

The scent of old books

The fragrance of the crescent moon

She’ll be a fighter in her life

She won’t grow up as your soul’s piece

She’ll mature as my masterpiece

She’ll be the drive without the radio

And the light for my dark shadows


She of scribblings and scars

Will be my daughter at power.



10 thoughts on “My Daughter at Power”

  1. These dream words of today that speak love and hope, ever so beautifully expressed, also speak in wishful thinking , which in the past may have had a slightly better chance of materializing then than today. A tall and beautiful order indeed! Love the work!

    Liked by 1 person

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