A Poem for Darcy

A dew days before her birthday last week, my younger daughter requested I write her a poem. Being a loving father, I happily obliged:

Darcy, my Darcy: today is your day

To be showered attention, for this is the way

We celebrate the anniversary of your late winter birth

With a full day's worth of sugar, presents, and mirth.

These assembled gifts are tokens of our intent

That your day be special and lacking all lament.

I hope we have given all you hoped that we might

Except... oh crap... I now remember a poem I forgot to write.

Darcy, my Darcy: as a father I have failed

Not to order from Amazon what can be subsequently mailed,

But to accomplish the simple act of writing for you a verse.

My inability to do this now causes me to curse -

To bemoan my sad situation, to fault the stars and moon

And regret the fact that today somehow arrived too soon.

I won't try to excuse my neglect or cry you a river

Over the fact that I so thoroughly failed to deliver.

Darcy, my Darcy: I had so many chances to compose

A series of couplets about your face and your nose.

I could have used the time whilst on our Houston trip

To describe the curve of your earlobe or the purse of your lip.

I could have fund the meter and rhythms that worked just right

While making your waffles in the morning or snuggling at night.

I could have crafted a lyric while waiting for you to shower

Despite the exhaustion I felt and the lateness of the hour.

Darcy, my Darcy: I beg you to acquit

Your father for being so lacking and utterly unfit.

In addition to being unable to hit a ball from a tee,

I clearly cannot manage my time so as to write for thee

A poem that expresses my deep feelings of pride and of love,

And that I would do anything for you, if push came to shove.

I'm so sorry I did not write a birthday poem for you, my kid

Except... oh wait... I think I just did.