My daughter has lived overseas for a number
of years now. She married into royalty, and they
won't let her communicate with any of her family or
friends. She lives on birdseed and a few sips
of water. She dreams of me constantly. Her husband,
the Prince, whips her when he catches her dreaming.
Fierce guard dogs won't let her out of their sight.
I hired a detective, but he was killed trying to
rescue her. I have written hundreds of letters
to the State Department. They have written back
saying that they are aware of the situation. I
never saw her dance. I was always at some
convention. I never saw her sing. I was always
working late. I called her My Princess, to make
up for my shortcomings, and she never forgave me.
Birdseed was her middle name.
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Comments about this poem (Father's Day by James Tate )
- That bench is my dear., Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Loneliness, Ashwini Annigeri
- समनि नायथाय- 25, Ronjoy Brahma
- I am not uttering, gajanan mishra
- Holy and pure, hasmukh amathalal
- For All The Love In Me, Sasha Claire Beckains
- Sick of Seeing So Much Violence on the S.., Hebert Logerie
- Tomar charan dhuli, ramesh rai
- All horizons, hasmukh amathalal
- The area of no envy, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
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