February 1st

  ash to ash and dust to dust

  my tears are caught by my pillow. 

tiny giggles and my father's raspy laugh, are all i hear.

my daughter isn't in that tiny pink blanket anymore,

she's around four wearing the same pig-tails my father 

made me wear.

 my father isn't in his fifties anymore.

he's about twenty-six and healthy.

   i sit on the park bench.

      i watch.

 

my father is pushing my daughter on the swing.

her little giggles cause my father's smile.

this causes me to smile; it's been five years since i've seen he's smile.

i look at my Anna and i notice she looks nothing like me.

  her sky blue eyes, rounded nose, olive skin, honey brown hair,

   and that smile; is all her father's.

 i want nothing more than to join Anna and my father, but i can't.

i sit and watch on the bench.

     ash to ash and dust to dust. 

my tears are caught by my pillow.

my daughter's giigles and father's raspy laugh

   haunt my dreams like a horrid storm.

 all i can do is sit on the park bench, and 

     smile a forced smile. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

copyright LeighCameron

instagram: leighcameron__