poor wee soul

Are you me,

or my body

which shelters you?

Like my heart

you are all sensation,

prepared to laugh,

or weep,

at the slightest provocation,

yet you cloak yourself

in invisibility,

even to my inner eye.

Are you mine

and mine alone?

Do I need to learn your landscape

before I've even learned my own?

Yes,

my darling daughter,

I am yours alone:

singular,

though not immutable.

At the very least,

remember that.