Missing You

Something I wrote for my daughter when she was younger and at her Dad's for a while. She's all grown up now. And a pistol. I recently made a video for her I'll include the link to. Thanks.

For Varity

The years before your birth 
are translucent as beach glass, 
bleed into the present 
like colored sand shaken in a bottle. 

You were always with me, your ghost 
attached to my hip, some haunting 
extension in a Victorian spirit photograph 
as I treaded the troubled waters 
of my time on earth without you. 

I was always so hungry, yearning 
for the stretching fit of fullness, 
the lush fruition only you could provide. 
I was at my best with you 
flowering inside me, freed of smoke 
and medications, my only ache 
to rip you from my body 
and cradle you to me forever. 

I've watched in amusement 
as you apply lurid-blue eye shadow, 
and I swear you're not nine years old 
but thirty, and I'm hobbled 
and bent by the prospect of a man 
who aches for all I squander 
like water. To awaken to your face 
fresh every day, the soft-white bulb 
of your temple against his cheek. 

He will long to wrap you in his arms
as I yearn to enfold you 
in a seamless embrace, mother melting 
into child in a liquid dance 
older than Time itself, the only cord 
of strong enough fiber 
to tether my soul to this world. 

Oh little girl, I want you back 
where you belong, in my arms.