Memo to my Daughter

{Original entry 10-89}

Please do not look so like your father standing there;

turning your head inclined – putting your fingers to your hair,

For it disarms my day.


Please, do not do the ritual things.

The sounds of a Beatles tune coming from your lips;

Just as it played a thousand moons –

For it disarms my day and leaves me vulnerable to the night.


So walk away and do not laugh or frown;

And never wink or dance a little step

Or tell a lie or clown to make me smile.


In short, my daughter, just be yourself

For you disarm me with your father’s song

And I would let the lyrics fade.

Since I must walk another mile

And I would do it without arms of ghosts to lean upon.