where the pale gull soars
above a wild, grey ocean
children lick ice cream
On witnessing the destruction of an innocent
and how we smiled, and cried
‘Oh yes, she loves her Daddy, she’s her Daddy’s girl.’
No response from the big blues eyes.
From her high chair at the head of the table, little Charlotte surveyed her smiling, adoring family and Christmas gathered friends.
Father sat, wrapped in a smile of parental innocence. Some of us saw it coming.
‘Tell Daddy you’re his little girl, sweetheart.’
The silence stretched.