{Original entry 10-89}
Please do not look so like your father standing there;
turning your head inclined – putting your fingers to your hair,
For it disarms my day.
Please, do not do the ritual things.
The sounds of a Beatles tune coming from your lips;
Just as it played a thousand moons –
For it disarms my day and leaves me vulnerable to the night.
So walk away and do not laugh or frown;
And never wink or dance a little step
Or tell a lie or clown to make me smile.
In short, my daughter, just be yourself
For you disarm me with your father’s song
And I would let the lyrics fade.
Since I must walk another mile
And I would do it without arms of ghosts to lean upon.
~DeeDee~
