Always the footsteps down the hall
a forewarning mewl of her lover’s call
As the hallway light through the cracked door pours
on the creaking, glossy, wood-planked floors
The name spilling from her lips abhors
“Yes, daddy?”
Then the quietness in the dark returns
Little lace duvet that has been down-turned
And the sleep comes, graciously, with ease
when it’s done, and he has been appeased
Yet we still hear God’s voice in night’s breeze
True Daddy.
The One In The Dress 