I remember the first I saw my infant daughter
I told my wife nothing looked weirder
Because my infant daughter
Looked like a bald dehydrated otter
Taken out of the water
My daughter was squirming
Looked like she’s swimming
Maybe she still thinks she’s inside her mother
Floating in liquid matter
My mother was elated
My siblings were excited
They said my daughter is a Xeroxed
A copy of her father
Now my daughter’s grown
She’s already a fawn
The only time I see her at home
Is when she thirst and drink like a gnome
For she’s out all day
Playing with other people’s daughters
Why am I being sentimental?
About my toothless daughter
Who now knows how to answer back
And can reason like a lawyer
And defy her father
Like an heretical preacher
Well, you see,
My daughter’s nearing
Her birthday
And in my financial state
I can’t give her a cake
So’ I’ll just write this poem
And when she grew up and read this
Maybe she’ll realize
How much her father loves her
And maybe she’ll realize too
How cheap her father really is
meandering thoughts of an aging grade school music teacher who recently rediscovered the joys of cycling
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