Under the starry night, I dream of a different life. I am thinking of golden cities and exotic creatures. All the people wear vibrant clothes ,their earie smiles an antidote to the melancholy of the outer world.

I am watching them dancing and sweet talking to each other ,their towns filled of beautiful flowers and small animals running around. There is no pain here, no thoughts or feelings , only the hope of a brighter future.

I imagine a world for my daughter that never existed.

I fantasize about a childhood for her that didn't have pain, at such a young age.

A world where her father had been a better man.

In my mind, I erase the days he took her to his mistress when she was five, convincing her to lie, and I pretend, instead, he took her to the park and pushed her on the swings. The nights when he was out drinking and running in the streets, never happened because he was at home with her, helping to pick out her pajamas and her favorite stuffed animal, and reading her stories until she fell asleep in his arms, feeling safe and loved.

The times when he taught her love comes with a price, become erased and replaced with a loving father teaching her that his love is unconditional, that she is beautiful, and valued, and enough just by being who she is.

I replace his cold, harsh words with warmth, his womanizing ways with empowerment, his lies with truth.

The hidden bottles, the smell of liquor on his breath, the seething hatred and contempt,

vanish as quickly as his memory after a long night at the bar.

I fantasize he chooses to prioritize her, over everything else,

days when she would sit and wait to see his car arrive outside end with him arriving on time, sober and of sound-mind. Excuses and blame become lessons in accountability, responsibility, and growth.

He calls her and asks about her day,

He shows up at her games,

He takes care of her if she is sick,

He protects her from harm against all else.

I see what he could have been, what she deserved. If only I had one wish upon a star, I'd rewrite the story to fill in the broken pieces of her heart.

Can you write of the ocean if scared you may drown?

Of flights through the sky when you're stuck on the ground?

Of folks and of places you've never been around?

I don't know about you but I do.

Can you write of the past if you're presently now?

Of future though time travel has no way how?

Of school days despite that you've taken your bow?

I don't know about you but I do.

Can you write about villains if you're goody two shoes?

Of happiest endings when you have the blues?

Of triumphs and troubles you've never gone through?

I don't know about you but I do.

Can you write about creatures that no one has known?

Of far-away countries from the warmth of your home?

Of fun times with friends when you've always been alone?

I don't know about you but I do.

Can you write about space if you've never left earth?

Of measures of treasures with your penny's worth?

Of mothers when you have never given birth?

I don't know about you but I do.

Can you write of finding that one Mr. Right?

Of that special someone making you his wife?

Of magical days and romantical nights?

I don't know about you but I do.

And then, I dream... A girl can only dream...

And hope and pray with might,

That someday maybe my words will be true-

But, in the meantime, I write.

..have you ever tried to put your fingers perfectly together?

fit them against each-other so that the curves fit into each-other?

like the continents' edges would fit as one?

it can't be achieved

by holding your fingers straight against each-other

they must be curved in, at an angle

if you put both hands together

it all makes a small bowl

if you let water fall into it

the waters form a heart shape

whether You tilt the hands forward or backward....

..there, the waters will over flow