DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL

in the eyes of his little girl, he was a magician,
a soldier, a salesman, a politician, the tallest,
the strongest, the smartest, yes-the best of all
fathers. each day from the office his phone call

meant security, like the light from the family room
if she woke up at night; he was always there. as years
passed by, something or someone changed. a sense of
doom bore a rift between them neither could repair.

miss independent, married, alone and away, too
proud, too stubborn, too much like him, she knew
she could never go back. a small glimmer of life began
to grow that would have been family; but no man

claimed his offspring. heartbroken, defeated, nowhere
to turn,she confided in dad; she loved the child who,
as yet unborn, had lost one parent already. we burn
our bridges, then must sink or swim. but 'I love you'

words fell out of her heart for the first time when he
told her he was going to have surgery. cancer,
the unspeakable, can't happen to Superman. can it?
the best grandfather in the world? deep in the pit

of her stomach, a nagging fear and a daily phone call,
'How is Daddy today?', became a ritual.
but every day he disappeared a little more, til all
that was left was a memory, a spiritual

presence that shone through the roses and made her
cry. two fatherless children with tears in their smiles-you
might see them in the park; the boy loved to spin and
whirl on the merry-go-round with daddy's little girl.

and there in the shadows, just out of sight, a guardian
angel in robes of golden light stands always
vigilant to shield them from danger as only he can,
to guide and protect them the rest of their days.

~ Broken Wings ~

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