In the morning
As I sent Reiki to my sick Lillian,
My daughter sleeping in my arms
As we both fought head colds
And it felt like the sun would never rise,
I listened to her breathing
And the rain, the latter falling just
Outside my window.

Daddy Day plans all put on hold
By forces greater than her and I put together,
We stayed in our pajamas and cuddled
In bed,
On the sofa,
And back again.

My soul (remains that of a child)
So that I will always know hers,
So that I will always know the truth;
No matter how inconvenient it will be,
No matter how much money it will cost,
No matter how many relationships it will cost.

I want to keep looking
With eyes that don’t belong
To this older man’s body,
But instead with the imbued wonder
Of a child flowing through each day.

A child doesn’t care
About job security,
About being popular,
About finding love;
But instead with just being.

That is who I want to be
When I grow up;
Dead to the waking world’s
Empty “seriousness”
So I can continue
Hearing The Angels laughing.

© copyright 2016 John David Higham

Photo: Aboard The Polar Express (Williamsport: December, 2015)