A Different Kind Of Loss


Pamper

He never held out his arms to me
or swung me high
He never sat me on his knee
and told me funny stories
He never tickled me
into a fit of giggles
and never hugged me tight
when I wept

I would have liked
to squeal with delight
when he threw me
up in the air
secure in knowing
he would always catch me

I would have liked
to hold his hand
and skip along merrily
messily slurping ice cream
and have him gently
wipe my grubby hands

I would have liked to have
fond memories
of wonderful times
spent with him

I would have liked
to tell him I loved him
but to me he was a stranger
brooding, dark, fearful
Not knowing
what would annoy him
I stayed out of his way

I would have liked to be
a pampered Daddy’s girl
But I never really knew
my father while he lived
and death
was just another way
of losing him

© 2017 Uma Venkatraman ~ All Rights Reserved

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