Daughter

I cannot allow you to go into
the lives of men, cannot allow
such intermingling with the world,
for you were not intended to dart
within the hearts of those who
have not raised you.

No one will take care of you,
and I have not been able to pass
that chore to you yourself,
and this I see was a failure
of mine.

I can only hope you are a seed
of something I've instilled,
a gentle note in the cacophony
of this world, and when you
remember me, you think
in balance I have given
you a stable thought or two.

Perhaps no father
is ready to allow
this egress . . .
and, in the end,
I must admit
it is worse, probably,
to disallow it.