i’m not her, his forever wife i’m just his daughter a pale substitute of the woman he loves he does not glimpse the ghost of her smile in my face as i gently wash his he does not feel her tender touch in my hands as i shave his grizzled beard echoes of her sparkling voice is not heard in mine when i call his name or while i sit with him making idle conversation to fill the time sometimes, as i enter his room he looks up in expectation thinking i’m her, only to be disappointed as a kindness, i show him photos of her, only the ones where she’s smiling, he begs to see them over and over whispering her name, but her absence can’t be filled by my trickery. |