A letter to Stephanie

Dear daughter,
The pride of my manliness,
Evidence of my fertility,
Source of internal peace.
I should be reading you stories
So you can dream of beautiful fairies
Whenever you close your eyes to sleep.
But here I am;
Writing with a quail dipped in my blood
To tell you the words
That you never got the chance to hear.
I could tell you about Pixie dust
And the adventures of Peter Pan
But I choose to tell you about your mum;
The greatest influence you never saw.
She was strong so you could live
She gave up immediately she heard you weep.
I should be telling this in person
Telling you how you got her eyes
And inherited her sweetness
But all I can do from here is smile.
There's not a tear in heaven
So I smile hard as joy cascades in droplets.

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