Many words to be said
on a thousand subjects,
but should I?
A look cast in
captivation, in awe,
caught by her fair
self,
dissected by a curious
and creative
mind.
Deflected.
Knowing that things said
without due cause
cannot be said non-caustically
and ceremoniously enough
for mine
and her
celebration.
Given careful time, these
sentiments cease in any
colorful misgivings
and come to
careful poetry.
So the watercolor carnations
creeping, chasing,
charging in our chaotic lives,
bind her child inside
as much as I
possibly could ever.
Courageously, she claws,
and my callous lips
close to form her name,
her call,
my continuous circumstance,
Cieara.