II: Richness

My youngest daughter,
gentlest soul,
even when we break
our hearts are full.

 Across the desert of my days
I see you reach.
Teach your gloomy father
the illusion of his fears.
We feed on laughter and on tears
more luscious than summer rain,
and we can heal the harsh dry sickness
when we touch and laugh

 (o delicate melodious daughter )
and laugh and touch again.