My Little Girl is a Laughing Thing

My little girl is a laughing thing. A spindly-legged, curled in my arms, look at me I’m naked thing. A tickle in the morning, blow on her tummy, bounce out of bed thing. A hands on, no fear, her body is my body thing.

My middle girl is a blossoming thing. A budding, elbows and knees, horses and rainbow thing. A lie on the bed, kiss on the cheek, tickle but be careful thing. A hugging, sacred, her body is her own thing.

My oldest girl is a womanly thing. A breasted, sexual, hidden thing. A stare at the bed, sit on the edge and shake gently thing. A hands off, fear this, I know nothing of her body thing.

And I, it seems, am a watching thing. A stand on the platform waving thing. A smelling the smoke, seeing the cars, afraid of the caboose thing.

A sad and lonely, smiling and fading thing.

rlp

© Copyright 2005 Preacher. Last update: 7/17/2005; 8:23:29 PM. Links