FOR DAD, ON REFLECTION

My father ties fishing line to a fairy
for me;
delicate hands aging and elegant against
this reflection of little girl dreams in crystal and blue.

Intent to do this thing for me in love
and ever-present devotion that I forget
too often
She chimes in grace and magic as he works the line.

If Tinkerbell wore Versace she'd be this gift he's making
and in my father's hands so caring
I watch her shimmer, whisper my fantasy;
I forget to be adult.

And now she's strung and flies
in strands of air;
catching light,
catching me, and love in ways I
didn't know
were always there in him.

My father loves me.
What a thing to learn just now.