Then she came and sat beside me
Sat beside me on the swing.
Told me just how much she loved me
Made me want to dance and sing.
Then her father from his window
Saw us sitting there entwined
Shouted words I won’t repeat
Shouted words that were unkind.
Words that made me more determined
Just to wed his darling daughter.
Climb I would the highest mountain
Swim I would the deepest water.
Then she came and stood beside me
Stood beside me at the door.
Through the crack we watched our daughter
Kiss him once and then once more.
Watched them sitting on the swing
Saw them sitting there entwined.
Shouting words I won’t repeat
Shouting words that were unkind.
Is this me, two decades later,
Acting like all fathers do?
Is this me, two decades later,
Feeling bits of deja vu?
Déjà vu was an attempt to try another poet’s style. If you try real hard, you might recognize a little of Mr. Longfellow’s Hiawatha score. I got the rhythm in my head and just started writing words. I hope the two-part poem that evolved makes sense to you. It generated quite a bit of response from the e-mail crowd.
Every parent that has a daughter goes through the same thing. We compare every young mans intentions to the experiences that we had at her age. It just might be that she is made of better stuff than we were. After all, we raised her.
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