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


This happiness may drown

If we get it wrong:

The fear of flooding for family

Created, not born.