Death's Long Questioning

Maybe he never cuddled me.
The way I imagine.
Maybe when the fears were there,
he was a dragon,
not a fairy.

Maybe when I cry
For him,
He's a shark, pictured as a kitten,
Playful and always there,
but hiding bare.

Maybe when I smile
To the memories.
They were few,
Not because of little time,
but many fueds.

Maybe he loved me,
But not the way of my mind,
Just mankind's
Natural emotion.
Daughter and father.
Never unbroken.

Maybe he missed me,
When the days came
Then went.
Maybe he longed,
for the end of the night,
and a turkish delight.
Instead of his daughter.

Maybe one was two,
And maybe two were one,
All I can do is hope
And long.
That he truely cared the way,
I,
remember.

Boneata Bell
21/02/2011
01.50

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