Hair trailing like jet streams
As tiny shoes skim the grass.
Don't know where she gets
The breath in her lungs to
Keep her going.
She'll need it for all the cushion
It'll give when she crashes into
Her daddy's arms to have it
Squeezed all out of her.
It's always the moments few
and far between
Keep low, her momma said,
When the sirens wail and they're
Shining that light through the blinds.
She keeps real still when red flashes
Blue even now.
Holds her breath and waits for
The light to blind her again.
Just a habit.
The drawings looked so funny
When they were done.
A sort of dark humor with the
Look of shock scribbled on her face
In cerulean blue.
Never liked blue but the shade
Always caught the girl's eye.
Her momma deserved that color.
Her daddy's car was colored orange.
They thank heavens it wasn't red.
"You can't Change it.
You can't Control it.
You can't Convince him.
But you can Cope."
Told her to repeat it like a mantra;
Post it on a wall
Let it spill like a holy verse
Until you believe it.
She wasn't one for God anyway.
But what if I wanted to try?
Air around him isn't so stale now.
Frowned upon to have a beer
At an alcoholic's wake.
She wondered if this is how it would
Have smelled.
She barely knows the people in this
Room.
They're chatting about church and
How he was so great.
But she'll bet her last dollar
That they hadn't seen him sober
In years.
Hell, neither had she.
*All I can do now is cope.
Figured I'd rework this, since it needed refining anyway, in celebration to the holiday.
Here's to you, dad. I'll toast a drink to you, I guess.
