Around in circles we always go,
Twisting time, it goes too slow,
When we end up back inside square one,
Picking up where we started from.
Nothing is forever, nothing lasts,
All's lost eventually, nothing's stead fast,
Never believe and never trust,
Do this and you will never hurt.
For people mess up people's lives,
And people damage people's minds,
Idealism is not worth the fuss,
You'll end up cynical like the rest of us.
People see yet they are blind to me,
For they only see physically,
As revolving earth goes round in haste,
And hours of life go to waste.

She's on my shoulders, her chin snug
on my crown; her hands;
little-strong, clasp
my neck.

My man's fingers & thumbs circle
the glass bones of her ankles.

I am her daddy. Hers.

I imagine the feel of me through
her feelings. She chuckles
at the roughness of my whiskers. I'm the stuff,
in this moment, of her childhood

memories to come: The faint
crispness in the beginning-distance
of her life. These are the days
before her brother will be born.
He is due in August.

These are my last days of this particular

closeness with her. Quickly a glisten

in the corner of my eye builds
to clear silvery wobbles, suddenly pigeons
clap up from the corn, the smooth
heavy-blue sky sheets
electric-flash, her hands cling

a little harder as the dark
clouds rumble.
My cheeks itch with trickles.

As the storm hovers above her she says
with her small-voice clarity -

'Daddy, I won’t cry.'