Only until her feet can reach the floor,
A few short days while she is still young,
When in her eyes I can do no wrong,
And she thinks I’m the father she adores,
While in my heavy arms the light bird soars,
And her little hands still string me along,
Will I believe that my small girl belongs,
To me, my love, and not to that war.
But then - that’s it - we cannot live this lie.
Your tale, your truth, I refuse to stain,
Your devotion, respect, I will not buy,
I must break the peace, though I’ll hate your pain,
But right now she swims, before the lake dries,
Water will recede, my love will not wane.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.