They always said
How much the little girl
Was like her daddy--
The way she stood
Walked 
Movements
Gestures--
Cute when she was small

But the older she gets
The more she takes on
More serious aspects--
My strengths
My weaknesses.

Proud to see her
Strong personality—
Flashbacks to my youth.
Strong-willed
Free in spirit
As a young deer
Kinking up its hind legs
In defiance of constriction.

A free spirit sees
No need for the fences
We build to contain it
To control their so-called
Baser instincts.

In her my strengths are
Magnified-- but oh
So are my weaknesses--
My weaknesses magnified!

Looking at this
Living mirror of myself
Magnifies
Intensifies
A normal father/daughter
Relationship.

I think I see clearly because
I think I know myself so well--
I chastise myself
I condemn my weaknesses
The mistakes I made in my youth.

I look down at me
She looks up to me.

They say she is
So much like her daddy
But she is much more--
Part mama
Part gran
Part grandma
A tapestry of traits
All formed in her
Along with what her social
Environments have
Sown and reaped.

The teenager often sees the
Outward beauty of a
Model or movie star--
Someone is always
Better looking
Someone else always
Has more of something.

I try so hard to make her see
That this is so common
A feeling--
She is above all this
She is not run of the mill.

Time has proved
That I see more
Than what meets the eye
But this knowing
Holds possible dangers--
I can see ahead to
Warn her of trouble
But there are troubles
That she must endure.
Over-protection--
Every parent knows this pain.

I do not want to fail her
But distance grows
Between us when
I monitor her progress
When I push and ****
To make her less like daddy.
She shouldn’t be like me--
I have too many regrets.

I sometimes hear sounds that
I cannot distinguish--
I hear fluttering sounds
That I think are birds
Flying out of the trees
But in reality it is the wind
Blowing high
Through the pines.

I see shadows of strangers
Seeking mischief
Shining bright
Lights at the family tent
In the cold
Half-dream-state
Of the cold night--
But reality says it is
The distortion of the campfire
Through the fabric of the tent.

I cannot always distinguish
Certain sights and sounds
At certain times
But time reveals what
They truly are.

But to bite the tongue
When I wish to scold
Out of season--
To stop focusing on our
Likenesses to the point
Where I cannot differentiate
Between my feelings
Or what I used to feel
And the individual soul
That my daughter is.

They always say how
much she is like her daddy--
Maybe daddy needs to change.

Imagine 💭
  
I had a dream where my mother  mustered the courage to own her truth; unabashedly and unapologetically. In that parallel universe, she owned her own identity, and not being defined as someone's wife or daughter. She never fell for anyone where she was obliged to stay, rather she dared to leave. Pursuing her dreams and travels to places she has never been before, chasing sunsets and dreams. Like the Phoenix from the ashes, she rebuilds her life from the scratch.
In another life, I don't wish to be born so that my mother can reap the benefit to live, laugh and love.
~RitzWrites 🥀

Hey even though I  got 'dem Blues
Ya Mama still loves you
Cryin' I have all night long
Missin'  our  little love  song

Only you know how to thaw my Heart
Oh Daddy - Oh Daddy - yur so Smart!
Sing me Baby our Winter Song
That warms us Honey all Night Long.

(c)DLR
06/07/2024
☀♥ƸӜƷ✿♬

In the empty hall,

standing next to her suitcase --


mum waits, and she cries.

It is May, and yet

winter is in the air now --


that Mama is dead.

Sweet spiced cookies
wafting in my nose.
It draws me to the kitchen
and on my tippy toes.

Mama's made a special treat.
She says it's still too hot to eat.
I can hardly stand the wait!
I bet they'll taste so great.

I hold mama's apron
until she gives me some.
It tastes just like mommy,
and it tastes just like home.