On His Shoulders (Poetry)

Had he loved me as I so much wished
all my childhood though
that he would learn to do
I might have been the daughter
he perhaps had wanted me
to be.

Instead, we were at loggerheads
from early on.
Distant even when I was very young
yet old enough to see
how seldom he looked
or smiled at me.

Far from being spoilt, I bore
that label ‘only child’.
I grew introvertly wild —
needing love to tame
an awkward nature. I took the blame
absorbed it stubbornly.

Only once as I recall
one summer evening carnival
I wasn’t tall enough to see
the procession, so he hoisted me
high on his shoulders. There
I sat dizzy in the air.

And the thrill of closeness was
what I remembered — not
the colour or the noise.
It was the joy
of being so enthroned
as though I was discovered

his lost princess.