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Child of Divorce
The child of divorce was once the child that sang and did the macarena
The child of divorce was once the child that used to say you be happy, because she had no
reason not to be.
The child of divorce was once the child that was secure, knowing both her parents would be
there in the morning
She believed in fairy tales and childhood and thought the world was a wonderful adventure.
She loved snakes and deer and ladybugs, she knew no fear.
The child of divorce believed in Santa Claus, the Easter Rabbit and her Parents.
The child of divorce now sits quietly, contemplating how unsettled her world has become.
She now screams when her mother leaves her sight, wondering if Mommy is leaving forever
too.
The child of divorce has no rational reason for her father not being there to share
Doritos with her, in the big brown chair that was once a special place that Daddy
occupied.
The child of divorce has replaced wonderful little girl dreams, with nightmares of the
people she loves most driving away from her, while her little legs can't peddle her new
bike fast enough to catch up.
The child of divorce now wets herself, when she had just become so proud of her big girl
achievments.
The child of divorce doesn't understand where all the tears are coming from, nor does she
understand all the pain that such a little heart can hold.
The child of divorce, who once laughed so easily, now cries harder than she ever laughed.
The child of divorce doesn't understand when Daddy says life is too short to be unhappy,
when he just cut short what was supposed to be the happiest time of her life.
The child of divorce didn't ask for the hand she was dealt, she is just asked to handle
more than two tiny hands can hold.
The child of divorce, my beautiful vibrant flower, that I now watch wilt helplessly in the
heat of uncontrolled passions.
How can two people that loved each other enough to create you, cause you such pain now?
This child of divorce, my heart, my life, my Katelyn.
How can one choose which half of you to take, when both halves were so perfect as a whole?
The Little Girl In The White Dress
The little girl in the white dress
plays a song within my heart
her soul is as light as a butterfly
her face a portrait of fine art
She picks me dandelions
far more glorious than any rose
she runs across the field to me
yellow pollen on freckled nose
I picked you flowers Grandma!
with a kiss, she's on her way
another adventure beckons her
she doesn't have time to stay
The little girl in the white dress
like a summer breeze in June
skips through life to a melody
I wish I could sing her tune
She brings me back to the memories
of the child I had been
all the magic of that time
I am experiencing with her again
How can it be that she's not mine
when my heart tells me it's so
then her parents arrive to take her away
and I have to let her go
The little girl in the white dress
with a generation past, how can
it be
that this angelic child
is a younger rendition of me? |