Daddy

An unfamiliar house, lost in some old memory.
The tree still sparkling in the light. These are the Holy Times.
A mop of blonde curls, no longer seen through the screen of the camera.

None of these can be recalled.
Only you.
And even you’re beginning to falter. 

Leaving me grasping onto straws.
Or maybe a fuzzy red monster.
A kiss travels from him to the toes of my footie pajamas.

                Daddy.
                That’s what I called you.
                Still do, on occasion.

A simple moment, captured in time.
The good memories hidden away.
Forgotten in a dresser drawer.

Only the bad remains now.
Burned into my mind.
Haunting it.

Blue shorts, black shirt, simple slippers.
All so simple, from the black hair to the think glasses.
You were simple.

                Daddy.
                Why the complexity then?
                Where do I go now?