Men Wanna Be Pappas Too

I hold her hand near water’s edge

And then let go when safe as seen,

I laugh and watch, she jumps a hedge

To fall on grass without a bleed.


We wander on, beside the stream

And talk in words made new last week,

Use horsey, doggy, pig and cow

And Urdu, kill, and bungalow.


When she was three she heard our words

And rhymed them with vacuity,

She rhymed them with a knowing look

And put them in her mental book.


It dreads me that one awful day

Her words her thoughts all not constrained,

By me nor one who talks alike

Allows her hate where none was mimed.


We know I know I’m not her dad

Her mum is still a shadow had,

My dreams a caste of hope gone bad

Pale seeds that time has roasted black.






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