Written by Mike Bonikowsky
Ten o’clock on Tuesday morning
I go looking for my daughter.
She is kneeling in a sunbeam
Like a deer down to the water.
She had been getting herself dressed
But had forgotten halfway in
Fully occupied with feeling
The morning sunlight on her skin.
I’ll never see her thus again
So happy in her human form
Content to dress in beams of light
Sent to illuminate and warm.
Tomorrow she’ll metamorphize
Nothing like this could stay that way
No doubt she will be beautiful
But never as she was today.