published poet Norwegian, but live in Portugal
My Daughter 45 she was, but I loved her madly, she became pregnant, I know a birth at that age can be difficult, but I was delighted at last I my fiftyish year I was going to be a father. My daughter, for some reason I thought of my child as a girl, would have the best education so she could be free and marry for love and not out of economic necessity. What fool I was my lover a fitness fanatic feared she would look middle aged if she had our child and terminated. I cried when I knew and could not bear to see her again. I often dream of my daughter see her going to school for the first time and she would know I was just outside should she need me...And now that I’m old I miss her like an ache in my heart. And I think when I die will she come out of my dreams, be real, tell me I was the best dad in the world and hold my hands as we together fly where no malice and pride cannot survive?
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the memory in a photo (24/02/2018)
haiku about what does not matter (23/02/2018)
the psychiatric patient (22/02/2018)
the battle (21/02/2018)
legal pornography (20/02/2018)
new year somewhere (19/02/2018)
the piano tuner (18/02/2018)
the Algarve (17/02/2018)
power play (16/02/2018)
food and drinks (15/02/2018)
- 2014 - 2015 (2)
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