Sitting in the park,
He watches her climb
On a rock, the way she
Looks over to make sure
He’s watching, a flitting
Bird enjoying a sunny
Afternoon, he nods his
Approval, mind straying
To the many times he heard
The gavel come down
Informing him that he
Was not fit to care for her,
The same thing that had
Happened with her mother,
The specter of foster care
Looming over the scene,
Ready to take her into
It’s impersonal arms and
Away from everything
She knows, now but a memory
That never quite goes away.
