Father's Daughter Monologue

how lovely it is, to walk by themselves with interlocked fingers. we're now humbly approaching your throne father, and thank you for this day that we've awoken to. baby’s breaths rests behind julius’ ear while the rest is kept in his love’s pendent hand. it chimes after their footsteps, treading lithe and lissome across nemophilias and bellflowers. the lady of the meadow and her hand of gossamer reaches out to him, brushing a warm tear off his cheek. a smile tickles forth on his lips, reddened from sucking on the remnants of his love’s. thank you for the warmth of a body beside us to protect us from loneliness and nightmares. on their knees, inside the woven shade of their trousers, stains of dirt and grass hide. as does the little case of polished wood and cushioned velvet in jason’s
gloved by his larger one, it fits perfectly and does not threaten to slip out as his love leads them forward. it was once so cold, so very cold that he could not keep them warm, regardless of how fast or hard his blood pulsed. years ago we were both in bad places father, and when we met the sun started to shine again. but the sunlight has thickened since then. it glosses over their skin and kisses them aglow. their cheeks have come to know smile and laughter again. god knows they have. there are still very hard days for me, but with jason here i feel like i can make it through. as do themselves, from caressing out the soreness out of them. as do they, from seeing a brighter self reflect back at them with its light, seeping through all and enveloping naked tissue in gauze. please give me strength and ability to be there for him just like he is there for me. and as do their beloved friends; their joy chronicled in pictures and tapes to be revisited. give us strength to practice the fruitage of the spirit to everyone, but most importantly to each