Thursday, 20 August 2009


She’s fifteen today,
Is my daughter, and
Though not biologically mine
I brought her up from six,
And in body, mind and spirit
She sees me as her dad.

She’s one of the good kids,
Of whom so little is written
About these days by the shakers
Who inform the papers
With generalisations about
The next generation.

And she’s a beacon of
Light in these frosty times,
Warming the lines that
Surround her and gracing the
Favoured with her shine, bathing
Her brother in life,

Who she saw into the
World with us earlier in
The year and for whom her love
Has no equal or decent
Petition, save the condition
We make for her.


  1. Being myself the father of an 18 years-old daughter - also "one of the good kids" - your poem touched me deeply.
    Thanks, Ian.

  2. O man I've not read much about this little one. Screw the "step" bullshit. You are just as she sees you. Be that which she sees you as, you probably already are.
    It's really interesting how these diary entries gradually evolve. A subject introduced months ago can be returned to and a new perspective, a new light can alter it. These word entities that you breathe life into are quite the trip. A little more on the daughter & Harry wouldn't hurt at all. Keep going