Our Girl

A father raising his daughter on his own contemplates how he will remember his wife to his daughter and how life will be for all of them later in their lives.

Reaching out but I grasp on to nothing

Calling out, I know you can't hear me 

My voice can't breach the clouds.

My hands can't reach the past.

For now I'll tell of your grace and your charm

I'll tell of how you loved so fully

To our sweet girl.

And I'll let her know, that she has your green eyes

So when you meet, God willing, many years from now

She will know you well and run to you, reunited at last

For now she plays in the pond, catching tadpoles.

Soon she'll find a boy to wed, and she'll move onward

Forgetting her old man.

For she will have her own family to raise,

as time moves forward.

She'll tell her boy how he has her green eyes

In the eve of my life I will see you again

and I will hold you close to me.

My soul at rest, my mind at ease.

When they lay me down. a final message; ''till we next meet.'

For now our girl is playing in the pond, catching tadpoles.

Smiling at me.

Author's Note

At first this started off as a song but I didn't want to force anything too much. I suppose this qualifies as a poem then.

"Green Fields of France" by The High Kings was stuck in my head while writing.