Father,
I must remind you that I am not you.

I cannot know yet the weight
the burdens you have carried
to bring me thus far,
but I know I've made them heavy.

I am unsteady and in disarray,
because I was raised in a storm and
you would not look at me, in the eye,
and so I grew up all alone.

Father,
I must remind you that I am your daughter.

I have your lonely hazel eyes
that observe better than others,
and see the quieting comfort
in a bitter brown drink.

I know you are a good man,
so I have not sought your approval
in the arms of inviting boys.
I sought it in myself instead.

But, Father,
I must remind you, I am me, alone.**

From you, I have learned
self-reliance and utility.
From your mistakes, I know
happiness is hard to keep.

When we are both older,
you may reach for my hand,
I will give you my money, but,
my hand may not be there.
          because I am your daughter, and I act alone,
                                                          ­                                       like you.