Our daughters
Strolling along the beach bank
My two daughters
Play their silent game
Walking arm in arm
The older suddenly younger
The younger, later born
They embrace, giggle
Strike up a chorus of the cow song
Giggle more
They were not born like this
Step sisters
Thrown by life
Into each other
Like the marshlands
Formed by our choices
Their lives
Like these wetlands
Dependent
This happiness may drown
If we get it wrong:
The fear of flooding for family
Created, not born.
Dadhood 