Daughter at Ten
To watch you at ten
teetering on the edge of becoming
is to watch the trapezist
working without a net.
(This is so egg-like,
cracking at any minute
due to my carelessness,
or tended with care,
emerging ready to take wing.)
Nothing but clichés
and time-worn expressions
of support come to mind
when new phrasings are called for,
ultimately, you must learn the acrobatics
on your own:
I can only promise
my hands will be there
to grab hold
when you complete
this breathtaking maneuver.
9 thoughts on "Daughter at Ten"
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It is terrifying to be a parent! Especially love the parenthetical that takes us from egg to wing.
without a net! one of the best metaphors for life. the self awareness about clichés–
Amazing how you do it! I am a total geek over how you do.
Love the idea that you touch on in the third.
Great work.
Lovely, Bill. She’s lucky to have a dad like you.
Welcome to the teen years, Buddy. I promise you, that 10-year-old daughter of yours will be the fodder for many a future poem.
You have captured the terrifying realization of the illusion of control under which we all have to parent (or else we could not function).
I think Austen catches the essence
of your wonderful poem: the illusion of parental control. Being there is sometimes the most you can do.
Shew. Yes. My daughter is 10… this hits (again).
Hi!!!
So great to read your work again. 😊
Thanks so much and very nice to see you again too, Mary,