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?
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
the marriage (15/08/2017)
week end in Cascais (14/08/2017)
the invisible (13/08/2017)
at the surgery (11/08/2017)
dream makers (09/08/2017)
the wasteland (08/08/2017)
racism 1952 (07/08/2017)
- 2014 - 2015 (2)
Viewed 5569 times since 24 May 2012
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