Cleaning out her bag -- the one
She left behind, along with some
Clothes and papers -- "Better done
By herself", I think, as I separate
The saveable things from the detritus
Always found in women's totes, my eyes
Get a bit moist seeing her photos,
A condom in a pocket, surprise, surprise,
"She was always a strong one", I sigh,
Her rebellions, the boys, she was wise
Beyond her years, saying "Papa I'll be fine",
An ache in my heart, each night she went out,
Back in the days when she was mine
To raise and control and worry about...
Now she's gone into the world of men,
And I'm far away, holding her old things,
Helpless to protect her, like I could, back when
I pushed her on the playgrounds' swings...
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