small girl

leans forward, back

forward, back

a cycle, as natural

as any of nature’s rhythms

she does not think

she only swings

creaking old swing set

that has been in her backyard

since she was two

she comes to escape

she comes

because this is the one place she finds

balance

forward, back

forward, back

hair

a million strands of gold

glisten, shine

catch the light

of the fading sun and do not let it go

she is glowing

but only on the outside

her world on the inside:

a million shards of pain

they slice her every time she wakes

to another day

without her father.

another day with him gone.

a bleeding heart

she digs in and pushes off the ground

feet almost touching pine cones

in the old pine above her head

she is a fugitive

running, hiding

always running, hiding

unable to escape

the misery of her world

the misery of who she is

a girl with no daddy

a girl who wanted a daddy,

but he didn’t want a little girl.

instead he ran

a fugitive as much as she

so in this they are alike

they cannot face anything.

she hops off the swing

chains rattling

and walks inside.

another day down,

a million to go.