Each night
I sit
With her
Cross-legged on the floor
And dry her
Hair
As I brush out
The curls
In her long
Blond hair.
We eat
Dinner
And then
She showers and sings as she plays with her mermaid toys
While I
Smile
Or even cry
As I listen
To those sweet notes
Coming from the bathroom
And her
Tiny lungs.
There will come a day
When
She will
No longer
Be
Willing to sit
With her
Father
And let me
Brush her hair
While she hums
A tune
Only she has heard
As the dryer drones
And whines.
Some day
I will have to let go just enough to let her do her own thing and find her own place in the world outside of my arm’s reach.
But not tonight.
Not tonight.
Timothy Vance Jackson
11/20/2008
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