I Was Told
for Clara, my daughter, my heart, my song
She didn't invite me,
my soul was there, though.
I was told she sang her song,
brave, beautiful,
young, and yet, strong.
I was told, that
the audience,
she faced, fearless.
A tight and short skirt,
over endless legs,
over ivory shoulders,
flew her fair hair.
Next concert, wether,
invited or not,
I shall see her by myself
I won't need to be told,
how my awsome daughter,
flies within a song.
La Finita
poem by Laa Finita
Added by Poetry Lover
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