Just my daughter Phoebe and I sitting it out
Parading our equally measured wit to all and sundry
A rare evening when the ex-wife allowed for me to steal her away
Memories forever enveloped inside of one precious day
Sublime times
Hardback to the last
Blind-love on Lisa’s part, albeit I have to admit to mine and Phoebe’s connection being on an entirely different level
We were always likely to sip English tea, wait and see what this glorious concoction may just bring with it
Masterfully equipped, smiles a dozen miles wide, stripping dry clean away all of the heartbreaking animosity
Art her reprieve now, a wunderkind with the brush, elegant surroundings atop, beneath, a mesmerisingly deft touch
Colour her crazy, incredibly able to draw what she sees, oh so pleasing on the eye
Two birds, one stone right there
Teeing it on up perfectly
Leans over a jovial father’s shoulder to whisper in his ear: “A 1st, can you believe it, Dad? A distinction degree!”
So proud, bound to sell it from the rooftops, even if she is a little prone to aligning herself rather embarrassingly with her mother’s infamous strops
A separate degree of cop-on necessary before she gets to make a real stain on society
I spill my tea before looking back in her direction, asking her, suggesting that she draw me
Into her next story
The wayward father holding out for all the hope and all the glory

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