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Just So You Know

Just so you know, you bring out the poet in me.
I’m not your father, you’re not my daughter,

already I’m more than that, don’t ask me how
or why, but there it is, this peculiar sense of things.

I’m at least an admirer, enjoying your presence,
as you sit there on the sofa, your pleasant face

and bright eyes turned up to the morning light,
the faded jeans, the loose shirt, and running

shoes unable to hide the slim, graceful body
beneath, and the mobility and vitality it portends.

When you turn your head ever so slightly, I follow
the jaw line to your expressive mouth which

frames your soft speech, forming your words
in a way that honors you and respects the truth

of all that you have become, your flower-girl past
blossoming into motherhood and now, wrested

from love’s disappointment, a rebirthing phase
loaded with promise, poised on the future’s edge.

I see you about to fly, to take off, to soar with
the wings of an eagle, with another at your side,

building a nest, the substantial kind, befitting
your soaring nature, one that will last another
30 years and more if you have your way.

 

Endnote: This poem is addressed to a Sitka woman many years my junior. Her father and I are the same age. We had met recently, our first time, over dinner at a friend’s house. After reading my website she dropped by my apartment for an hour’s visit while on her morning walk. Delightful.

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