At Home, Sunday Afternoon Comments
Her black hair bounces
as she dances through discarded papers,
kicking the Metro section into the corner
where she houses a baby doll with bright clear eyes.
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It takes matured and smart brains like yours to poetically narrate the play of a daughter. This poem suggests a very deep implication. Indeed, we must see the well-being of our children as a collective responsibility. Nicely written!
Beautiful picture of a baby girl who practises her doll to walk! (something of a marionette without strings attached!) Her daddy is watching her action with curious interest! He is bound by strings tying him, his daughter and the doll! It suggests so much! 'And I notice tiny lines crease the carpet, bent fibers looking white, where she dragged herself and doll along the only available road toward family.' Very meticulous observation!
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8/17/2025 2:45:25 AM # 1.0.0
A beautiful poem on the growing years of a child and how a parent gets attached to strings of the heart. A wonderful advice to a parent to be. Fatherly, I would say. The bouncy hair....the walk...the excitement of the child...the child talk...the fathering....a wonderful picture weaved with words! An experience of being a parent cleverly told. Thanks for the poem, Daniel!