21/365 - More Audrey Poetry
My daughter the combo breaker.
I’ll meet you on Gilligan’s LOST Fantasy Island. Together we’ll plot escapes and experience fulfilled wishes.
Death is a lullaby taken to extremes but you’re the forgotten screwdriver in the engine casing. The phantom pain of forgotten ideas making my mind itch.
I hope that one day sexism is like my great-grandparent’s racism. Quaint, embarrassing, and a sign of a bygone era.
A lot of poor countries can’t afford the luxury of female non-combatants. I’m glad you won’t be forced into the army here but it could teach what I probably couldn’t. Hand-to-hand combat, for instance.
The Canadian women that made the bombers for England in WW2 used to deliver the machines by flying them over solo from Canada to the UK. Those bombers usually required a crew of six. Women weren’t allowed to fight.
I want to raise a critical thinker. Your eyes already bring December as strongly as they bring July. Your withering, penetrating stare should be used to back up thoughtful points while your laugh should be used to clear off chess tables with the sweep of an eyelash.
You’ll make recipes, you’ll paint, you’ll draw. You’ll dance with us and sing with us.
I know you’ll be a silly goose because you already are one. I think all three of us are going to laugh a lot.
But you’ll always know there’s nothing you can’t do.
tags
I’ll meet you on Gilligan’s LOST Fantasy Island. Together we’ll plot escapes and experience fulfilled wishes.
Death is a lullaby taken to extremes but you’re the forgotten screwdriver in the engine casing. The phantom pain of forgotten ideas making my mind itch.
I hope that one day sexism is like my great-grandparent’s racism. Quaint, embarrassing, and a sign of a bygone era.
A lot of poor countries can’t afford the luxury of female non-combatants. I’m glad you won’t be forced into the army here but it could teach what I probably couldn’t. Hand-to-hand combat, for instance.
The Canadian women that made the bombers for England in WW2 used to deliver the machines by flying them over solo from Canada to the UK. Those bombers usually required a crew of six. Women weren’t allowed to fight.
I want to raise a critical thinker. Your eyes already bring December as strongly as they bring July. Your withering, penetrating stare should be used to back up thoughtful points while your laugh should be used to clear off chess tables with the sweep of an eyelash.
You’ll make recipes, you’ll paint, you’ll draw. You’ll dance with us and sing with us.
I know you’ll be a silly goose because you already are one. I think all three of us are going to laugh a lot.
But you’ll always know there’s nothing you can’t do.
tags