Apple Of My Eye Daddy’s Grown Baby Girl
Shana Punim – whose existence begat
by this dada and da mama aye
revel in your bursting at figurative seams
viz maturation, and know by
Chatting over the telephone, your aura, charisma,
and persona finds me blinking back tear ducts
ready to loose water works i.e. cry
how fate gifted this papa, whose existence
would be devoid without you, and
purposefulness undermined if loss
