Winter
I told my pa that it was everything I wanted
I described the journey and brushed away his concerns
Fathers take care of their own, so I understood the sentiment.
Spring
It’s been a year since my conversation with pa
After walking a long and dirty road, I’m starting to wonder
Could I have jumped at it too quickly?
Am I still visible? For I can no longer feel my skin.
Summer
My heart is fragile and my world is bleak
I am in a state of flurry but I maintain a calm outward appearance
Just one more, one more to go and I can take a bow.
Autumn
The leaves have littered the grounds of my father’s compound
He is sitting by the big oak tree, a can of Guinness at his side as he flips through the latest copy of The Sun newspaper
My greeting receives a stiff nod and nothing more
I am not hurt, we both know why I have returned
I settle on the seat beside him and take in my first breath of relief
Beneath the tree, we discuss the stories captured in the newspaper and my heart warms
After all, I am my father’s daughter.
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Brazen with Vanessa 