Another Poem on My Daughter’s Birthday, by Craig Morgan Teicher There must be soft words for an evening like this, when the breeze caresses like gentle fingertips all over. I don’t know how not to write darkly and sad. But it’s two years today since my little girl was born, cut safely from the noose. We meant nothing but hope; how near death is to that. Only children, only some children, get to run free from these snags. She was born! She lived and she grows like joy spreading from the syllables of songs. She reminds me of now and now and now. I must learn to have been so lucky. Share this:EmailPrintFacebookTwitterPinterestTumblrRedditPocketLike Loading...