Father Daughter Memories
he gazes at the faded paper
mimeographed program
found in an envelope plucked from
overstuffed picture files
father-daughter dance
cheap stereo music
echoes in his head
tinny tunes from bygone eras
remembers that afternoon, his
shy ten-year-old baby girl
unbraced overbite
freckles dotted her nose
hair combed long
robin’s egg blue barrette
complimented her eyes
sipped lemonade punch
nibbled bland tea cookies
awkwardly attempted to waltz
until she whispered, “I don’t like
this song, Daddy.”
she and her friends collapsed
in giggles afterwards
patent leather shoes eager to
do the Twist, squeal at I Wanna
Hold Your Hand
a few weeks later
he passes on the envelope
eager to see her grown-up reaction
she smiles at baby photos
pulls the crinkled program
studies it, puzzled
“You were ten,” he prompts
points to the year. Plaintive tone
wills her to recognize this fond moment
she shakes her head no, stuffs
paper back into its folder
pas de deux memory denied