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Click hereshe tries to be happy,
tries so hard
to show me only light
to hide the history in her head
but I hear of it
she herself tells me:
for the first time i did not cry,
i called to say no more,
i was so trusting,
i slept badly.
Or I hear from heaven:
she has nightmares,
she came home and cried then went back,
once each month.
she thinks of me,
holding her secrets,
hoping for love,
the habit dies hard
strategems I try:
tell me what you hoped for,
keep a journal for me,
my little one
but she slips through,
keeping her counsel
I am her Master,
but here I must ask not order.
Please, little one,
let me in.