She always tasted like chocolate
when I kissed her, my Lily-eyed little girl.
Barbie and I shared similar names:
Tour-Guide-Daddy
Kitchen-Cook-Daddy
Girly-Laugh-Daddy
“I-Love-You-Daddy.

Dress up was an inevitable responsibility,
I was a dutiful mannequin who never stopped smiling.
Explaining to the chief my forgotten pig tails at work
had her giggling right into my arms
My little Lily. She could babble faster than a brook
and skip faster than a stone

Angels don’t truly die.
Our Lazy Boy “Rocky Road” still smells like chocolate
The creek by my station speaks just like her.
Lilies are flowers for the saddest of occasions
though they won’t ever be ignored.
Dressing myself feels foreign and I occasionally indulge in pig tails.
I am still her mannequin but my smile is no more.