Aha, holding thy nerves well.
Am I visiting for the first time, and a la mode! A palace you have constructed for my advent. I am thy daughter, nominally so you cannot deny.
I will act out no part, but sojourn thy residence so I will have lived it. I ought to.
I will remove no sheet of calico woven in plush from your bed. Do you know how swathed thy baggy blanket my entire rear? It was warm, and outside was always too cold. So I would pull that on. Did you mind?
I will also not look under my desk, not in my closet, not so in my rucksack, and never under my bed.
I will run to the balcony that faces your backyard straightaway, seeking the flicker from the pole of two lambent lights built atop the off - white concrete of my neighbour's house colored in green.
Why, did I leave you at the door?
Why, did you not follow me?
Follow me to the rear of your own house. Don't tell me you have lost the way on white marble floor; follow me where the vantage of the spectacle of your ambience always catches the fancy of thy eyes - too congenial a taste on thy tongue in lieu; if not, follow me to the end of it all - the end of it all where I stand to greet you at the back with a little girl's vivacity as she stands on the doorstep for her father to be home.
Why! Have you not found your route yet? You know the way so well.
Why! My God! Daddy you are funny!
I am a kid. I am a kid.
'Tis against the kiln on the black bitumen of the road that the gate of your palace faces upfront. 'Tis close to the garden where sensed the skin of my hand the air when abandoned the touch of thy hand my right palm. 'Tis next to the gridiron on which is heated and swirled the goulash for your barbeque.
Now dear father, won't you be so quick to find me here so we can stop playing at last.
Now my loving father, are you still in the pursuit of thy daughter, or are you washing your hands on the sink of your kitchenette? Alas! What fugitive! What the heck of a hiding that you lost! A pity on us two!
Meant I to be found. I wanted to be found daddy.
Oft hath I composed on one montage of entities that I find this field not my bailiwick whilst hold I the pink pen thee brought me the other day - a set of ten in neon shades, but now so grey as the brick of the construction I saw. I touched it too, and laid my cheeks as well to feel. Ah! The stones kissed them like the thistles of thy beard would at nights when would thy quilt be pulled over me.
I parted! God! I stepped back at once. Alas! I did! I did on behalf of the kicks of your baby girl from the bed.
Oh did you not lose your daughter only daddy; I lost child in me.
See how I have grown. I am five feet something. Won't you look, steal one glimpse?
Why, art my thighs barely anything to be seen, is that why you keep thine eyne closed?
Then here is it - must end the game of hide and seek when you won't seek, and find I no place in your palace to hide.
Shall I end it? What if you are still looking for me?
Are you, daddy! "Papa" - shall I scream? Will you hear me then?
Oft hath I screamed at the name of my mater that seem thee not my father in the pronunciation of my tongue. Did I have one? And where is he now?
You are taking too long father.
Oft hath I been captivated by colors - crimson, mauve, and sallow; thy captivity tatalizes me like a beautiful prison.
Can I have my fairies there? May my fantasy unfold against the height of the grey bricks? It will be so easier to breathe.
He asked of my parentage. He, my uncle.
He asked for your name. He, my pal's father.
And they asked for you. They, every bone in me.
I, daddy's little girl, merely smiled.
I, imbecilic and tall in a pink and blue frock of thy labour, said, "I won't tell."
I, throwing a frolic for none to see, whispered, "He won't come."
I, I won't come daddy, as found my hands my ears to press.


© All Rights Reserved