Dear Daddy,

I’m getting old now, nearly as old as you,

& I know you’re dead, any talk we do

is in my dreams or in my head…….

 

Last night you ran your hand along my face

asked me how I’m doing, if it’s too late

to be the father all girls expect,

 

to be there sometimes, not on another flight

to a far flung destination where you’re

unobtainable: and your girlfriends hover.

 

Dear Daddy,

 

It’s been so many years and boys chase me

as girls did you, I’m a walking replica

of extinct genes…….

 

the same smooth skin and no grey hair

those undimmed eyes, but daddy now

you seem younger than me….

 

when you visit sometimes dream to dream.

 

Dear Daddy,

 

It really doesn’t make any sense

how being dead you’re just the same,

a figment of memory receptors in my brain……

 

all darling pilot and freedom fighter,

mostly your own freedom

I haven’t found mine……

 

Dear Daddy,

 

You’re so young still………….