Daddy's Girl
You could always walk away.
Home and family, friends, had no more meaning for
you than library books discarded on a park bench.
I went looking for you once,
concerned about my daddy alone
with someone else's belongings.  Nothing of your
own, except a few clothes packed in an old suitcase.

I brought you photographs.

I did not understand.

Sometimes, I imagine strangers wondering how they came to be
left in the dust of a rented room.
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