Perspectives: Daughter
Daughter
I don’t understand.
Why did papa have to go away?
Mama cries at night.
She doesn’t think I can hear her,
but I can.
A letter from papa came today.
Mama was so happy,
it was the first letter in weeks.
Mama still cries at night,
wishing for papa.
IT came.
The dreaded letter that seals a man’s fate,
a man in a crisp, white uniform came with it.
My papa was MIA.
The man said it meant missing in action.
I don’t want papa to be MIA,
I want him home with me and mama.
The man came back,
mama said he was papa’s superior.
(I hate that word, was.)
He said that they found papa!
Papa came home today.
It came with a lot of happy tears.
He said that I grew so much.
I’m happy he’s home again.
