To my dads on Father's Day,
On both of whom we both depend:
My daughter reinvents my themes.
Years pass, and well-wrought love remains.
Dads are saviours, straight or gay,
Always where our oceans end,
Deliverers of desperate dreams,
Solid land where sunshine reigns.
Eighty-six must be our secret number
To say we are in love among a crowd.
We are one whenever we're together,
Though we aren't mention it out loud.
We giggle at the same idea unspoken
And smile in simultaneous disdain,
Existing in a single cell unbroken,
Two nuclei alike in joy and pain.
Outwardly we are just closest friends
Because we do not wish to cause distress.
But when we're grown, the fairy tale ends
As we come out in more authentic dress.
Meanwhile we're ourselves in secrecy,
Our silence merely adding to our glee.