Daughter’s Day

The day came that we watched her go;
She wasn’t sad at all —
For lives in motion, days are full
Of moving —

And after all, we grow and leave.
The small become the tall —
So much that needs disproving, or
Improving —

The vented hearts we have are made
For pride mixed up with grieving;
To see our faith rewarded in
Our daughter’s own believing

In who and what and where she was,
And where all she’d be going;
But Lord, my heart was broken, far
Beyond mere words, or knowing,

But yet – the day was hers, not ours.
Just parents with a daughter:
Who watch her her go with pride, and eyes
Reduced to salt
And water

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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